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PACIFIC STUDIES

A multidisciplinary journal devoted to the study
of the peoples of the Pacific Islands

MARCH 1995

Anthropology

Archaeology

Art History

Economics

Ethnomusicology

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History

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PUBLISHED BY

The Institute for Polynesian Studies

BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY-HAWAII
IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE POLYNESIAN CULTURAL CENTER

go *f vs%

e/9S 30072-1

EDITORIAL BOARD

Paul Alan Cox
Roger Green
Francis X. Hezel, SJ.

Rubellite Johnson
Adrienne Kaeppler
Robert Kiste
Robert Langdon
Stephen Levine
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Leonard Mason
Malama Meleisea
Norman Meller
Richard M. Moyle
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Douglas Oliver
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Nancy Pollock
Sergio A. Rapu
Karl Rensch
Bradd Shore
Yosihiko Sinoto
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Articles and reviews in Pacific Studies are abstracted or indexed in Sociolog-
ical Abstracts, Linguistics and Language Behavior Abstracts, America: His-
tory and Life, Historical Abstracts, Abstracts in Anthropology, Anthropo-
logical Literature, PAIS Bulletin, International Political Science Abstracts,
International Bibliography of Periodical Literature, International Bibliogra-
phy of Book Reviews, and International Bibliography of the Social Sciences.

PACIFIC STUDIES

Editor
Dale B. Robertson

Associate Editor Book Review Editor

Gloria L. Cronin Max E. Stanton

Book Review Forum Editor Books Noted Editor

Robert Borofsky Riley M. Moffat

Technical Editor
Sharlene Rohter

Editorial Policy: Pacific Studies is published quarterly by The Institute
for Polynesian Studies, Brigham Young University-Hawai'i, La ie, Hawaii
96762-1294, but responsibility for opinions expressed in the articles
rests with the authors alone.

Subscription rate is U.S. $30.00, payable to The Institute for Polynesian
Studies. Articles submitted to the editor must not be submitted else-
where while under review by Pacific Studies and should be the original
typewritten copy, completely double-spaced (including quotations, ref-
erences, and notes). Authors may write to the editor for a style sheet and
information on computer-disk submissions. Books for review should also
be sent to the editor.

The Institute for Polynesian Studies is an organization funded by
Brigham Young University-Hawai'i. The Institute assists the University
in meeting its cultural and educational goals by undertaking a program
of teaching, research, and publication. The Institute cooperates with
other scholarly and research institutions in achieving their objectives. It
publishes monographs, produces films, underwrites research, and spon-
sors conferences on the Pacific Islands. Further information on the
activities of the Institute may be obtained by writing to the editor.

This publication is printed on acid-free paper and meets the guidelines for permanence and
durability of the Council on Library Resources.

ISSN 0275-3596

Volume 18 March 1995 Number 1

CONTENTS

Articles

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

Rosa Rossitto 1

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Snap Elections of 1994

Brij V. Lal 47

The French Government and the South Pacific during "Cohabitation,"
1986-1988

ISABELLE CORDONNIER 79

Book Review Forum

Annette B. Weiner, Inalienable Possessions: The Paradox of
Keeping-While-Giving

Maria Lepowsky 103

Marc Auge 114

Jonathan Friedman 118

James F. Weiner 128

Response: Annette B. Weiner 137

Reviews

Serge Dunis, Ethnologie d'HawaVi: "Homme de la petite eau,femme
de la grande eau"
(Ben Finney) 145

vi Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Tom Davis (Pa Tuterangi Ariki), Island Boy: An Autobiography

(Rebecca A. Stephenson) 147

Maureen Anne MaeKenzie, Androgynous Objects: String Bags
and (lender in Central New Guinea
(Terence E. Hays) 152

Vincent Lebot, Mark Merlin, and Lamont Lindstrom, Kava:
The Pacific Drug
(Glenn Petersen) 156

Books Noted

Recent Pacific Islands Publications: Selected Acquisitions,
June-December 1994
Riley M. Moffat 161

Contributors 173

PACIFIC STUDIES

Vol. 18, No. 1 March 1995

STYLISTIC CHANGE IN FIJIAN POTTERY

Rosa Rossitto
Siracasa, Italy

In Fiji there has BEEN continuous pottery-making activity for the past
three thousand years. The archaeological record reflected so prolifically in
potter)' establishes that change occurred throughout Fijian prehistory.
I shall try here to deal with the last period of ceramic activity in Fiji, rais-
ing the general question of how Fijian pottery has changed in its distinctive
stylistic features since the postcontact period and whether these changes are
a direct outcome of postcontact influence or just a reinvigoration of a trend
since the dawn of Fiji's occupation.

Having already attempted elsewhere to analyze the relation between
developments in the external socioeconomic context and those in the realm
of pottery (Rossitto 1992), I do not tackle this problem in detail here. My
chief interest, instead, will be the internal dynamics of stylistic change: the
procedures followed by potters striving to innovate, their level of conscious-
ness in the manipulation of the traditional "vocabulary" and set of rules, the
tolerance they show towards innovation. In a word, I shall stress the subtle
interplay of tradition and creativity as it influences the potters' daily activity.
Given the popular image among art historians, archaeologists, and anthro-
pologists of non-Western arts and crafts practitioners being the unthinking
and undifferentiated tools of their traditions, as people who are essentially
denied the privilege of technical or conceptual creativity, the related ques-
tion is whether it is possible to speak about creative originality and conscious
innovation in a community that focuses extensively on collective action.

However, before studying stylistic change in Fijian postcontact pottery, I
set myself a preliminary task, that of recording the exact pottery production
in each present-day center, impelled by the fact that Fijian pottery has been
inadequately investigated at the ethnographic level.

2 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Historical Context

In the early 1800s, when exploration and colonization by Westerners started,
pottery production was widespread throughout Fiji, practiced by women
belonging to the piscatorial/nautical communities known as the kai wai,
"people of the sea." With the exception of the Sigatoka Valley, inhabited
essentially by farmers, pottery making was the prerogative of these kai wai.
The women made vessels by slab-building in the lower and upper Sigatoka
Valley, Yawe, and Levuka; by ring-building in Ra and Tailevu Provinces; and
by slab- and ring-building in Vanua Levu, Yanuya, and Nasilai. All over the
island group, potters used the paddle-and-anvil technique to knock compo-
nents into shape and fired their products in an open fire, glazing the still-hot
water containers with makadre — dakua tree (Agathis vitienisis) gum — to
seal and color the outside, and waterproofing cooking pots with vegetable
substances because makadre melted on the fire.

Pottery was made for personal use and household exchange and con-
sumption, as well as for communitywide trade transactions. During solevu
(so, gathering; levu, large), pots were bartered along with fish for barkcloth,
mats, vegetables, and other goods produced by the agricultural communi-
ties. Pots were also iuau, "valuables," and consequently could be offered to
chiefs as tribute and presents and could be exchanged for other valuables
during ceremonies on the occasion of births, marriages, and deaths. In both
trade transactions and ceremonial gift exchanges, pots were important not
only in supplying necessary goods, but also in maintaining social relation-
ships, including kinship and political alliances.

With changed economic and social conditions since arrival of the vulagi
(foreigners, whites) and the growing influence of money, pots nowadays are
no longer made to meet any real internal demand but primarily for the tour-
ist market. Pottery making is essentially supported by the possibility for
monetary income that it allows. Tourism seems to be the only factor that will
determine the future of the pottery centers. Tourism affects the numbers of
potters employed and, consequently, the degree of vitality of the centers,
and also the types and quality of products.

The impact of tourism is but the most recent development in a restless
pottery-making tradition. Through the excavations of Gifford at Navatu and
Vuda (1951, 1955) and the Birkses at Sigatoka (1966, 1967, 1973), archaeol-
ogists have already established a sequence of three very different ceramic
traditions. These traditions vary in characteristic forms and decoration, pro-
viding a framework for reconstructing the island group s prehistoric period
into four broad phases (Green 1963; Shaw 1967).

The Sigatoka Phase is defined by the Lapita tradition, which has been

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 3

considered the hallmark of the Proto-Polynesians: closely related, small
groups of largely hunter-gatherer and fishing peoples whose eastward voy-
ages more than thirty-five hundred years ago led to Fiji as the outpost for
Polynesian colonization. Lapita is a low- fired, sand- textured pottery whose
surface is sometimes burnished or slipped with reddish clay. It is repre-
sented by a wide range of vessels decorated with elaborate geometric pat-
terns achieved through different techniques, in particular by the use of
comblike toothed stamps pressed into the clay before firing, the resultant
impressions probably filled with lime or other white substances. In Fiji,
however, the Lapita pottery is relatively less sophisticated. There it shows
some twenty-live hundred years ago a much more limited range of vessel
forms and a degeneration in decoration that led to a coarsely functional
plain ware that points to isolation and a lack of contact between the local
Lapita people and those in other western island groups. A little more than
five hundred years later new forms appeared, predominantly embellished
by the imprint of the potters finishing paddle with patterns of diamond,
square, or rectangular cross-reliefs; parallel ribs; zigzag lines; and wavy and
spot reliefs carved into the paddles working face. Archaeologists have sub-
sumed this pottery under the Impressed tradition, which distinguishes the
Navatu Phase, whose time span has been fixed from about 100 B.C. to A.D.
1100. From about A.D. 1100 to A.D. 1600, the archaeological record displays
a reduced frequency of impressed motifs, very high frequency of plain ware,
and limited quantities of new incised decoration; this stylistic tradition
marks the Vuda Phase. The Ra Phase (a.D. 1600-1800) is based on a second,
significant increase in the use of incising as a decorative technique along
with comb and gash incising, shell and tool impressions, applique elements,
and combinations of these. Pottery showing such stylistic characteristics has
been considered to belong to the Incised tradition.

The four phases and three ceramic traditions still stand as a rough ceramic
chronology. However, debate over whether they may denote such events
as migrations and cultural discontinuity — the cultural affiliation of the Im-
pressed tradition has been left undetermined, while the Incised tradition
has been associated with Melanesian culture (Birks and Birks 1973; Bell-
wood 1978; Frost 1974, 1979) — or gradual change by internal development
(Hunt 1980, 1988; Best 1984; Crosby 1988) has recently resulted in a redef-
inition of the sequence in nonphasal terms.

Research Methodology and the Ethnographic Record

Articles by Roth (1935), Thompson (1938), Palmer and Shaw (1968a,
1968b), and Hunt (1979) provide records of the ceramic technologies in use

4 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

in historic times in Ra and Bua, Levuka and Kabara, the lower and upper
Sigatoka Valley, and Yawe. These descriptions are more accurate and com-
plete than those left by nineteenth-century Europeans who visited Fiji: their
observations were always fortuitous and excited more by the strangeness of
what they were seeing than by genuine analytic interest. From the ethno-
graphic literature one can draw data on the ceramic production of the dif-
ferent areas but, with the exception of Palmers and Shaw's work, these data
are mostly fragmentary or incomplete and often concern only a few types of
vessels for which the function and a rough description are given.

The first attempts to describe and classify Fijian pottery were made by
MacLachlan (1940) and Surridge (1944). Their works, however, are too
generic and appear inadequate in the light of Palmer's and Shaw's surveys in
the Sigatoka Valley. Confirming the results of the archaeological record,
their ethnographic work pointed out that vessel form and decoration vary
from village to village within the same ceramic area, and that decoration
changes both in the decorative units used and in their combination accord-
ing to the type of vessel and the portion of decorated surface. In conse-
quence, it becomes evident that Fijian pottery can no longer be approached
as if it was a homogeneous stylistic tradition. But notwithstanding the
achieved awareness of the existence of local traditions and, therefore, of the
need to record them in detail, only Palmer (1962) has tried to summarize
vessel forms and decoration in each pottery center of historic times. Palmer
relied exclusively on vessels belonging to the Fiji Museum collection, though,
so it would be illusory to think that the production of each pottery center is
represented in all its variety. As Palmer himself expressed, it is necessary to
go beyond his first attempt, examining also vessels belonging to other collec-
tions and carrying out further fieldwork in the still-active pottery centers.

Clearly then, this field of inquiry must be subjected to two main lines of
investigation. The study of typologies is the first, obvious, and necessary one.
On one hand, such study may throw more light on the prehistory of the
island group, assisting and supplementing any comparative analysis drawn
from the archaeological material. On the other hand, it is the preliminary
step for the second line of investigation, the study of stylistic change. I have
thus first determined the types of vessels traditionally manufactured in each
of the still-active pottery centers, namely Nasilai in Rewa Province; Lawai,
Nakabuta, Yavulo, and Nayawa in the lower Sigatoka Valley; and Yanuya
island in the Mamanuca group. Each group of vessels has then been treated
independently as a starting point for my analysis of stylistic change, which
has been carried out in two stages both for methodological reasons and facil-
ity in reporting the data. In the first stage I analyze how vessel form has
changed during the chosen period; in the second, I consider the changes in

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 5

dctoration. Besides form and decoration, vessel size, glaze, and color as well
as possible words incised on surfaces and lightness/ heaviness have been
considered as distinctive features of style.

The form of a vessel has been considered to be made up of elements that
are always, or nearly always, present and that constitute its body: the stand,
base, shoulders, neck, rim, and lip, to which have to be added collateral ele-
ments such as handles and spouts. According to their characteristics and
combination, these elements determine a particular type of vessel, analyzed
both independently and in relation to others. Variation over the years has
been considered to be indicative of the formal change undergone by each
type of vessel.

Following the long tradition of formal analysis — established by Boas
(1927) and expanded more recently by Shepard (1956), Mead (1973), Wash-
burn (1978, 1983), and others, mainly under the influence of its success in
linguistics and semiotics — decoration has been considered to be a cognitive
system or body of organized knowledge that underlies a particular style.
This cognitive system has been conceived in terms of four components
shared by all decorative art styles: (1) a definition of the decorative problem,
(2) the basic units of decoration, (3) a set of techniques through which the
basic units acquire a visual reality, and (4) a set of rules governing the use of
basic units in solving the decorative problem.

The starting point for this study was the easily accessible Fiji Museum
collection. A small percentage of these vessels date back to the last three
decades of the nineteenth century, with the remainder manufactured from
1930 onward. This iconographic material has been enriched and supple-
mented with pictures of specimens belonging to the collections of Sir Arthur
Gordon, Lieutenant Charles Wilkes, and Captain John Magrunder and with
Miss Constance Gordon-Cumming's and Baron von Hugel's drawings.1
These collections consist of datable, localized, and particularly representa-
tive specimens. They were assembled in a crucial moment of Fiji's history —
Wilkes's and Magrunders collections were made when the first European
settlements and missions were installed, the other three when the colonial
state power was established — by people deeply interested in local artifacts
and competing to have the very best of them.

My own drawings and pictures of vessels manufactured a short time
before and during my 1986-1987 stay in the present-day pottery centers
complete the documentation. The analysis of the decorative system is also
based upon field-note records of decoration while it was being carried out
and descriptions from several potters themselves. In consequence, the anal-
ysis does not depend only upon formal comparison of representative prod-
ucts; it has also benefited from the complementary joining of my observa-

6 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

tions with potters' verbal information. Observation of the ordered steps fol-
lowed in decorating vessels provided information about structural relations
among the various components of decoration. Potters' own statements have
provided important clues on how the basic decorative problem is defined
and solved.

Typologies and Changes in Form

The main vessel types produced in Fiji in historic times include cooking pots
(kuro) for cooking taro, yams, and so forth (kakana dina, "true food") and
the smaller i vakariri for cooking meat and vegetables (i coi, the relish). The
second large group is of water and drinking vessels (saqa), kava bowls, and
dishes. The form of each type exhibits a certain degree of standardization
and, in general, is consistent with the vessel's practical function. Cooking
pots are invariably oval-shaped and wide-mouthed. Two to six of them usu-
ally rested on hollow earthenware stands (sue) used in groups of three,
placed in a shallow, rectangular, hardwood-bounded hearth dug in a corner
of a dwelling. Water was poured into a pot set with its axis at an angle to the
horizontal, food was added, and when the pot began to "sing," its mouth was
plugged with a wad of leaves and the food steamed within. Drinking vessels,
usually with one or more spouts, vary in form from the symmetrical round or
oval shape to bizarre imitations of bunches of fruit, sperm whale's teeth,
canoe hulls, turtles, or even combinations of these. Regardless of form,
drinking vessels were held high at arm's length and tilted until water
streamed down the spout into the drinkers mouth, a practice dictated by
a reluctance of Fijians to touch a vessel with their mouths, with the excep-
tion of the chiefs, whose drinking vessels were taboo (see Wilkes 1985:349).
Vessels used for water carrying and storage were larger and lacked the
spouts.

Fijian potters use the general term i bulibuli (form) in referring to a cer-
tain formal configuration, but they also use a particular term for each type of
vessel. A description of these vessel types accompanied by the related local
term and remarks on changes that have occurred is given below for each
pottery center.

Nasilai

Nasilai is a small fishing village near the mouth of the Rewa River, southeast
Viti Levu. Thriving until a few years ago, pottery making is now in decline.
Although there are nineteen potters and six girls who are learning how to
shape small vessels, only four of them continue to work sporadically to fill
orders from acquaintances or the Government Handicraft Centre of Suva.

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 7

Moreover, certain traditional vessels are no longer made and only a few
potters know their names and shapes.

Kuro (Fig. 1, a). It has an oval-shaped body with a concave rim and a
rounded lip.

Vakariri (Fig. 1, b-c). Its body can be spherical (Fig. 1, b) or carinated
(Fig. 1, c), with or without a pouring spout (gaga) and a very out-turned rim
(gusu cevaka).

Dnia vakariri (Fig. 1, d-e). Made up of two equal bowls (drua, twins),

FIGURE i. Vessels no longer made in Nasilai: a-e, cooking pots;
/, yaqona cup; g, bowl; h, finger bowl.

8 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

these can be spherical (Fig. 1, d) or carinated (Fig. 1, e). The bowls are
joined by a single or double central element and a handle attached to the
rims or to the element of junction. A pouring spout can be found halfway up
the bowls; the rims are usually very out-turned or straight with flanges on
the exterior surface.

Takitaki ni wai. A drua vakariri similar to Figure Id was recognized by
some potters to be a takitaki ni wai, while Figure le was termed a drua
vakariri. The cause of this differentiation in terminology seems to be the
presence of the spout, which determines the different function of the vessel:
the takitaki ni wai was used to carry water from river to house and then to
pour it into suitable drinking containers. Maybe pots like that in Figure Id
were also used to cook fish, whose broth could easily be drunk from the
spouts.

Saqa sokisoki. A water container in the shape of a ballfish (soki), the form
of the vessel was spherical.

Kituqele (Fig. 1, f ). A cup in the shape of a half shell of ripe, husked
coconut, it was used to drink yaqona,2 an infusion from the pounded dried
roots of the shrub Piper methysticum.

Mamaroi ni bulagi (Fig. 1, g). A bowl, the upper part of which is turned
in almost horizontally. Along the carination are small projections with holes
to which were tied strings of hibiscus coir to hang the bowl from the house
poles for keeping leftover food.

Vuluvulu (Fig. 1, h). In form, the bowl in Figure lg is a variant oivulu-
vulu, a carinated covered bowl with a central aperture and a lesser, inward-
sloping rim showing a flat, vertical lip. Once vuhwulu were filled with water
to wash fingers after meals; today they are no longer used, but miniature
variants with flat bases are manufactured as ashtrays for the tourist market.

Saqa dina (Fig. 2). When still used as water containers, these were manu-
factured in two different forms prescribed by the observance of rank distinc-
tions. Saqa dina manufactured for common people had an oval-shaped bod)
(Fig. 2, a), while those for chiefs were carinated (Fig. 2, b). The rims can be
concave with a rounded or flat, oblique to the exterior or interior lip (gusu
tareba), straight with a flat, horizontal lip (gusu dodonu), or straight with
ridges on the exterior surface. No particular relationship seems to bind one
type of rim to one type of saqa dina. The shoulders of the vessel in Figure 2c
get narrower in a straight line, losing the softness and slenderness of
the shoulder profile of the older specimen drawn by Baron von Hugel
(Fig. 2, b). Replicas of the vessel in Figure 2c, smaller in size and with a flat
base, are very common today. Vessels contemporary with the one in Figure
2a show a more spherical body. Both the spherical and oval forms are pecu-
liar to saqa dina dating back to the mid-1800s and to the first three decades

FIGURE 2. Saqa (Una (water containers), Nasilai.

Figure 3. Gusu i rua, gusu i tolu (many-mouthed drinking-water
vessels), Nasilai.

10 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

of the present century, but it seems that the spherical form is older, for the
oval form becomes more and more recurrent in vessels manufactured
recently. Vessels showing a very elongated form and a flat base, and small-
scale replicas of such, are common today.

Gusu i rua-tolu-lima (Fig. 3). One or more pouring spouts can be found
halfway up the body of some specimens of drinking-water vessels similar in
form to saqa dina (Fig. 3, a). According to the number of spouts, these ves-
sels are called gusu i rua {gusu, mouth; rua, two) or gusu i tolu {tolu, three).
Nasilai potters use the same terms for the vessels in Figures 3c and 3d,
which show an oval body and side rims replacing the side spouts, and state
that they are a traditional type of vessel; overlooking the formal differences,
the potters assimilate them to the type in Figure 3a. This type was already
manufactured in 1840, it has been documented, and over the years the form
must have slightly changed (Fig. 3, b). In contrast, specimens of types in
Figures 3c and 3d are not traceable in museum collections. In spite of other
potters' denial, potter Salote must be right in stating that Veniana Tosoqo-
soqo started their manufacture about ten years ago. It is said that vessels
with five apertures (gusu i lima), one at the top and four at the side, can be
shaped but vessels with a central aperture and three at the side cannot. Mul-
tiple side apertures are always placed symmetrically to achieve a visual bal-
ancing, which is impossible with three apertures.

Gunugunu (Fig. 4). Drinking-water vessels of this type dating back to
the last decades of the nineteenth century show the following features
(Fig. 4, a): (1) although the form of the body is roundish, it is not perfectly
spherical; the shoulder line is marked and the upper section of the body
slopes slightly inward, creating a triangular figure whose apex is a little han-
dle; (2) the handle is invariably made up of one or more arms with a large
knob or hole at the top; (3) the filling hole at the base of the handle is small
and is not encircled by a rim; and (4) the size is small. The vessel in Figure
4b exhibits all these features except one: the handle has been replaced with
a small, roundish knob. Figure 4c shows a more spherical body and a stand
imitating European items. In the opinion of the potter who shaped it, the
gunugunu in Figure 4d respects the traditional style, but in effect it is the
one departing most from it. The body is perfectly spherical; a straight rim
with a flat, horizontal lip replaces the traditional pouring spout; the handle is
no longer made up of two or more flattened arms to which applied knobs
give the appearance of a starfish but of a long and thick cord of clay; and the
hole at the base of the handle is encircled with a short, straight rim with a
wide, flat, horizontal lip.

Kitu (Figure 5). Used on canoes during sea voyages, this vessel has a very

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

Figure 4. Gunugunu (drinking-water vessels), Nasilai.

bellied oval or spherical body, a rim surrounded with a multiarmed handle at
the top, and one or more pouring spouts halfway up the body (Fig. 5, a).
Hung by the handle, kitu had the dual function of containing water and,
being slightly sloped, allowing it to pour through one of the spouts into a
drinkers mouth. Dating back to the first three decades of this century,
another vessel differs from older ones in having a stand (Fig. 5, b), while
kitu manufactured in 1986 (Fig. 5, c-d) differ in the oval form of their
bodies and the unusual shape and size of their handles.

Saqa ikabula (Fig. 6). A turtle-shaped vessel (ikabula, turtle), these have
a filling hole at the base of the "head" while the "tail" end acts as a pouring
spout (Fig. 6, a). This type of vessel can be single or double. If double, the
two units are joined side by side with a connecting pipe and a handle arches
across them (Fig. 6, b). One of the two units is usually shaped in the form of
a sperm whale s tooth (tabua).

Figure 5. Kitu (drinking-water vessels), Nasilai.

Figure 6. Saqa ikabula (drinking-water vessels),
Nasilai.

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

Figure 7. Saqa tabua (drinking-water vessels), Nasilai.

Figure 8. Saqa moli (drinking-
water vessel), Nasilai.

Saqa tabua (Fig. 7). A drinking-water vessel (Fig. 7, a) that can, as stated
above, be joined to a saqa ikabula or to one or more intercommunicating
units of the same type (Fig. 7, b). Figure 7c shows a saqa tabua with a
central aperture and a side one; the former is never found in older speci-
mens while the latter replaces the small pouring spout. A handle has been
attached to the side of the central aperture. The vessel in Figure 7d is even
more different from the traditional type: handles have been placed on both
sides of a central spout and a bird's head has replaced the side spout while a
tail has been modeled at the opposite extremity.

Saqa moli (Fig. 8). A drinking-water vessel in the shape of a bunch ol

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Figure g. Mua i rua (drinking-water vessels), Nasilai.

citrus-type fruit, it consists of two or more spherical, intercommunicating
units. A handle, attached at the top of each unit, arches to an apical joint, the
top of which is perforated by a round hole or can bear an applied cylindrical
knob. A hole is made at the base of the handle while a spout is applied half-
way up the body of one or more units.

Mua i rua (Fig. 9). This drinking-water vessel is shaped in the form of the
half moon (mua, tip) (Fig. 9, a). Compared with the traditional design, the
most evident change seems to be the loss of the side spout (Fig. 9, b-c). The
vessel in Figure 9d is much smaller; moreover, its base is flat and the shoul-
der line is horizontal. The form of the vessel in Figure 9b is more flattened
and elongated than that of older specimens; the shape seems more exactly
like a half moon. In contrast, this relationship relaxes (Fig. 9, e) and vanishes

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

FIGURE 10. Tagau rua (drinking-water vessels), Nasilai.

(Fig. 9, f). The vessel in Figure 9e is square-bodied instead of hemispheri-
cal, its base is flat, and its walls rise almost vertically. Another vessel shows
an elongated form with its upper section transformed into two side rims
(Fig. 9, f ).

Tagau nia (Fig. 10). This vessel is made up of two spherical, communi-
cating units placed one upon the other. There is an apical aperture, a pour-
ing spout halfway up the lower unit, and multiple handles attached between
the aperture and the upper section of the body (Fig. 10, a). A version of this
rare type of vessel, modeled in 1986 by Seru Tosoqosoqo, lacks handle or
spout (Fig. 10, b); moreover, the two units differ in size.

Tagau rua as well as carinated saqa dina, saqa tabua, saqa moli, and
saqa ikabula were chiefly vessels. During the 1800s, saqa ikabula and saqa
moli in particular were popular in chiefly households in Rewa and Bau, the
latter being supplied with earthenware by the former. Gordon-Cumming
recorded the favor they found and left us the first drawing of a fruit bunch-
shaped vessel (1881:246), while a drawing from the U.S. Exploring Expedi-
tion shows single and double saqa tabua (Wilkes 1985:138). My informants
say that turtle- and tabua-shaped vessels were intended for chiefs — turtles
and tabua are in effect male valuables — while fruit bunch-shaped ones
were made for women of high rank.

Ramararna (Fig. 11). Once used as an oil lamp, this vessel is a covered-
over bowl with a well-marked shoulder angle; its central, narrow aperture

Figure 11. Ramarama (oil lamp), Nasilai.

Figure 12. Kuro (cooking pots), lower Sigatoka Valley.

Figure 13. Dari (yaqona bowls), lower Sigatoka Valley.

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 17

shows a straight rim with a flat, horizontal lip. The potters maintain that this
oil lamp is a Nasilai traditional vessel; according to them, after a very long
period of interruption, its manufacture was resumed about 1984 by Veniana
Tosoqosoqo, at that time working at the Cultural Centre of Deuba, Pacific
Harbour, Suva. Having seen drawings of this type of oil lamp in a publica-
tion and having gone vainly to Gau island in search of it, the manager of the
center asked Tosoqosoqo to reproduce it, and on returning to Nasilai she did
so. The publication was undoubtedly Domodomo (1983, no. 1); three oil
lamps, one from Gau, are drawn on page 160. They are much smaller in size
than those manufactured in Nasilai now but are similar in form.

Modern. Production of a completely new type of pottery has been added
to the traditional forms and variants. The new pottery consists of vessels that
imitate Western items or elements of the local environment. Characteristics
of all of the new forms are small size and a linearity of the resting planes
achieved by flat bases, stands, and slab supports.

Lower Sigatoka Valley

Eight potterv centers are located along the lower reaches of the Sigatoka
River, southwest Viti Levu. Two of them, Laselase and Vunavutu, are inac-
tive now. A similar fate is imminent for Nasama and Nasigatoka, where only
a few old potters remain: three in the former, four in the latter. In contrast, a
revival of pottery activity has been taking place over the last few years in
Yavulo, Nayawa, Nakabuta, and Lawai. Nayawa and Laselase, on the eastern
bank of the river, specialized in the manufacture of finger bowls (vuluvulu)
and large yaqona bowls (dari), while Yavulo and Nasigatoka, on the opposite
bank, manufactured cooking pots (kuro). Through marriages the manufac-
ture of cooking pots spread to Nakabuta and Lawai, and the manufacture of
bowls to Vunavutu, Nakabuta, and Lawai in about 1950. In accordance with
this pattern of diffusion, the pottery production of the area shows a certain
degree of formal homogeneity.

Kuro (Fig. 12). The body is oval shaped and the rim is concave with a flat,
oblique to the exterior lip (Fig. 12, a). Compared with the traditional form,
the pot in Figure 12b has a different oval body, which goes with the narrow-
ing of the aperture and the unusual verticality and height of the rim. Figure
12c shows a rim of another pot having the same form as that of the Figure
12b pot; this rim has the atypical features of that one and in addition a trian-
gular mouth. Replicas of the pot in Figure 12b, made on a smaller scale with
a flat base and a pouring lip, are common today.

Dari (Fig. 13). This is an open bowl with a wide, flat, horizontal lip whose
edges protrude both inward and outward (Fig. 13, a). A bowl manufactured

18 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

in Nasama (Fig. 13, b) differs from the traditional type by a slight flattening
of its base and in the outer edge of the lip, which does not protrude
outward. The bowl in Figure 13c is supplied with a high stand that is noth-
ing more than a smaller, upside-down bowl. Another bowl imitates a tanoa
(Fig. 13, d), the huge wooden yaqona bowl introduced from Tonga and
Samoa in the 1700s and in widespread use in eastern Fiji. The bowl in Fig-
ure 13e has nothing in common with a dari, although the dari has been the
Sigatoka potters' starting point for its creation. The base has become flat and
the lip has lost the edges protruding inward and outward. The lips of some
specimens have been notched at four equidistant points, as for cigarette
rests, while two holes have been made below the lip of others to hang them
as flower vases.

Vuluvulu (see Fig. 1, h). Bowls with flat bases and scalloped or notched
lips are very common today.

Nontraditional (Fig. 14). A remarkable proliferation of pottery forms
whose origin cannot be absolutely traced back to the traditional typology has
been recorded in Lawai, Nakabuta, and, to a lesser degree, in Yavulo and
Nayawa. Like the nontraditional objects of Nasilai, this pottery is of poor
artistic quality but deserves attention since it constitutes the bulk of pottery
manufactured today. Very common are small objects in the shape of animals,
whose manufacture has been inspired by illustrations of the turtle-shaped
vessels of the Ra, Tailevu, and Rewa areas. Worth noting is the difference in
some element of form among objects of this group, resulting in many vari-
ants of the duck, pig, and turtle shapes (Fig. 14, a-c). In these villages as
well as in Nasilai, the traditional Fijian house (bure) has also supplied a
model for the potters, but ceramic Sigatoka bure (Fig. 14, d) cannot be con-
sidered a faithful copy of the real model. Masks, shaped in imitation of the
carved wooden ones sold at the Sigatoka town market,3 are constructed of
slightly curved slabs (Fig. 14, e). They assume a variety of shapes ranging
from oval to the roundish, rectangular, or square. The pierced eyes and the
applied eyebrows, noses, and mouths differ considerably in shape as well.
Some water containers are copies of the fruit bunch-shaped vessels of Nasi-
lai; they have been derived from illustrations and differ from their models.
The bases of the bowls are flat, the spouts have been replaced with wide
holes made at the base of the handle and encircled with a high lip, the han-
dles are flat and wide, and the connecting pipe between the two units is dis-
proportionately long and wide (Fig. 14. f ). Vessels with two or three rims,
manufactured by Loma Mate of Nasilai for the Cultural Centre of Deuba,
are a starting point for vessels with multiple rims manufactured by Leone
Matalou of Lawai. The formal differences between copies and model are
again greater than the similarities. The base of Lawai vessels is flat, the

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

Figure 14. Nontraditional pottery, lower Sigatoka Valley: a-c,
zoomorphic objects; d, Fijian traditional house (bure); e, mask;
f-g, drinking-water vessels.

shoulder angle is marked, and the upper section of the body shows very
long, straight rims. Vessels with four apertures, which are not made in Nasi-
lai because they violate the traditional rule of symmetry, are made in Lawai
by pairing the four apertures and eliminating the central one (Fig. 14, g).

Yanuya

On this isolated island in the Mamanuca group, off the northwest coast of
Viti Levu, only four old potters remain. They undertake work rather seldom.
when they receive an order or some tourist arrives on the island to observe
the processes of making pottery. Six types of vessels are made.

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Figure 15. Kuro (cooking pot),
Yanuya.

FIGURE 16. Other pottery forms, Yanuya: a-b, sira (cooking pots);
c, cubu (water container); d, saqa tahua (drinking-water vessel).

Kuro (Fig. 15). The traditional type has a perfectly spherical body, a con-
cave rim, and a flat, oblique to the exterior lip. More recent pots have a flat
base or a more oval body; some show a pouring lip.

Sira, sira deledele (Fig. 16, a-b). This carinated cooking pot for fish and
vegetables has a concave rim and a flat, oblique to the exterior lip. The rim

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 21

can have two different inclinations, which determine the name of the pot:
when the rim has a lesser inclination, the pot is called sira deledele. Present-
day specimens are smaller than traditional vessels.

Culm (Fig. 16, c). This is a water container with a spherical body; the
rim is concave with a flat, horizontal lip. Again, present-day specimens are
smaller than older ones.

Saqa talma (Fig. 16, d). This is a drinking-water vessel in the shape of a
sperm whales tooth. It has a small straight rim, a flat horizontal lip, and a
side spoilt. It differs from the saqa tabua manufactured in the Ra, Rewa,
and Tailevu areas in the marked shoulder angle: the upper section of the
body is almost normal to the base axis. Moreover, neither the central rim nor
the two cylindrical knobs placed along the carination on both sides of the
vessel are typical of saqa tabua of other areas.

Dari ui luluvulu (see Fig. 1, h). The rim of many contemporary speci-
mens is scalloped.

The Decorative System and Changes in Decoration

The forms of traditional Fijian vessels are limited in number, and prescrip-
tions dictate they remain unchanged. In contrast, decoration (kanukanu)
must vary from vessel to vessel and, in effect, presents a wide range of vari-
ability. A potter is forbidden to copy the decoration of another potter and
held in low esteem if she does so. As a proof of this, I have not found two
vessels of the same type manufactured in the same area that were decorated
in exactly the same way. This characteristic, together with a great artistic
sensitivity and a good level of technical quality, was also noted with wonder
by Europeans who visited the Fiji islands in the mid- 1800s (see Williams
[i884] 1982:59; Gordon-Cumming 1881:245; MacDonald 1885:1). How-
ever, it is apparent that the decorative variety prescribed to, and shown by,
Fijian pottery is not the result of a casual way of proceeding.

Decoration cannot be carried out at random (vakaveitalia) but, as the
potters state, it must be "thought about" (vakasamataka). Respect for a
scheme that is rigid in theory but flexible in practice is required. The scheme
is revealed through a series of fixed technical acts that, once learned and
mastered, are performed almost automatically. The potters know exactly
what type of vessel they are about to shape and how to shape it. In contrast,
decoration is a structured process that, on one hand, makes possible the
realization of numerous alternatives and, on the other, requires respect for
the rules governing the stylistic tradition of each pottery center. As I said
above, decoration is sustained by a system through which a particular style is
produced. This system provides the potters with a means of organizing the

22 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

elements needed to create decoration in that style. Now I consider the
components that constitute the system and point out changes that have
occurred.

The Decorative Problem

Basically, the decorative problem concerns the relation between the form of
a vessel and its decoration. To solve the decorative problem, the area to be
decorated must first be defined, then a basic procedure for building up dec-
oration must be established.

With the exceptions of certain specimens of*' vakariri from Nasilai and of
kuro and sira from Yanuya that show thin parallel hatches impressed around
their lips, cooking pots were not decorated. Soot accumulation through con-
tinual use would inevitably hide any embellishment. In contrast, water
containers, drinking vessels, and bowls were decorated. Water and drinking
vessels have their surfaces subdivided into two clearly distinct areas, one the
lower half of the vessel, which is always plain, and the other the upper half,
which is decorated. According to todays potters, this subdivision is imposed
by technical and practical factors. When the vessel is molded and decoration
started, the lower surface is already too dry. In this condition decoration by
impression or incision is impossible, while an applied decoration does not
stick perfectly and will sooner or later come off. Moreover, during the mold-
ing and soon after, the vessels are handled by the base. Specimens of kitu-
qele from Nasilai with completely decorated surfaces are an exception,
as are certain specimens ofkituqele and other types of open bowls, such as
vuluvulu and dari, which have smaller than usual decorated areas. Decora-
tion is restricted to a narrow zone below the lip in kituqele, to the rim in
vuluvulu, and to the lip in dari.

Sections can be distinguished within the decorated area of all the old
vessels and of some more-recent specimens from Nasilai. These sections
occupy fixed portions of the surface and accomplish different visual func-
tions, which are stressed both by the decorative units used and their combi-
nation. First, a narrow section (which I will hereafter call section A) can be
isolated between the decorated area and the plain one; on shouldered
vessels this section always coincides with carination. It is made up of single
or multiple decorative bands — if multiple, the bands are arranged in a
field — and has the double function of framing the decorated area and sepa-
rating it from the plain portion. A wide central section (hereafter called sec-
tion B) follows; this is the section on which the viewers attention is usually
focused. On the majority of vessels this section is subdivided into several

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 23

horizontal, vertical, or oblique decorative fields. On other specimens section
B appears as a single field. A third decorative section (hereafter designated
section C) can be distinguished on handles and rims. The portion of the
handle's surface that is decorated is the upper one, treated as a single field.
Two decorative bands often define this section; the bands usually lie along
the curvature of the handle and frame an intermediate band. On the rims of
water containers and / vakariri, decoration is nearly always placed on the lip.
Basic procedures are followed in decorating a vessel. Work proceeds
from the lower to the upper part and, in the case of a circular area, from left
to right. If the decorated area extends onto two faces, the decoration of one
face is generally completed first, then the vessel is turned and the other face
finished; otherwise, partial decoration of both faces is undertaken alter-
nately. Two procedures have been recorded regarding the arrangement of
fields and bands in the decorated area. Almost all the potters build up deco-
ration by delimiting a field and filling it, and so on, until the decorated area
is completed. Potter Seru Tosoqosoqo of Nasilai plans the decoration of his
vessels in a more systematic way4 In the first phase, he divides the deco-
rated area into fields by incising lines with a knife. Halfway up the vessel,
where the decoration will start, a string of hibiscus coir is carefully placed to
guide the knife blade in incising the first line. Depending on the chosen
decoration, one or more lines are then incised parallel or perpendicular to
the first. The fields so delimited can be further divided by additional incised
lines corresponding to future decorative bands. Having completed the toqa-
toqa (marking, tracing) or arrangement of fields and bands, the potter starts
decoration following the traditional process of delimiting and filling.

Decorative Techniques

Fijian potters execute decoration by incision, by impression, and by appli-
que work and modeling. With the first technique the smoothed, leather-
hard vessel surface is intaglioed with a pointed tool — usually a fine twig of a
shrub (sasa) — to obtain the desired hollow decoration. Impressed decora-
tion is achieved by applying pressure with the dentate border of a shell (kani
koli). For the applied technique, small pieces of clay are shaped with the
fingers and stuck on the vessel surface, where they are further modeled.
More than one technique is usually used in decorating a vessel, each potter
being familiar with all of them.

Potters have their own preferences about the distinctive features of the
tool used, for instance, its degree of thinness or sharpness, and select their
twigs and shells with great care so as to achieve the desired effect, which can

24 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

range from a very fine incised or impressed sign with a sharp outline to a
marked one opening at the edge. Besides shells and twigs, Nasilai potters
have begun to use practically any tool that produces an adequate sign.

Basic Units of Decoration

Decorative elements, motifs, and configurations are the basic units of deco-
ration, comprising visual complexes that represent a particular level of orga-
nization. A decorative element is the smallest self-contained component
of decoration that is manipulated as a single unit. Motifs are formed by put-
ting one or more decorative elements together in patterned ways. Decora-
tive configurations are arrangements of motifs with sufficient complexity
to fill a field. Defining the smallest units of decoration has been proble-
matic; although they need not be the irreducible minimum of decoration, it
becomes difficult to separate them from larger decorative units once they
are conceived as composites. A way out of this difficulty has been to ask the
potters themselves to identify the decorative units on portions of completed
vessels. Their answers provided information about the terms used to de-
scribe the basic units of decoration as well.

The decorative units used by Fijian potters can be categorized as being
either two-dimensional or three-dimensional. Two-dimensional decorative
units are ultimately impressed or incised, three-dimensional ones are ap-
plied. Decorative units are distinguished also by their practical /visual func-
tions: some are used only as "delimiters," some only as "fillers," others act as
either delimiters or fillers, a few act as delimiters and fillers at the same
time. Differing orientation of elements was not considered to be a distin-
guishing characteristic; elements that were similar but not perfectly identi-
cal were not distinguished whenever their differences appeared uninten-
tional, the result of a potter s individual touch.

Figure 17 records and describes the decorative units (DUs) found on
Nasilai pottery datable to between the second half of the last century and
the first decades of the present one (circa 1850 to 1930); Figure 18 focuses
on recent pottery.

In its present form, the rope motif (Fig. 18, DU 16), called dalidali, must
be considered a development of a motif found on old specimens (Fig. 17,
DU 26). DU 26 as well as DUs 19 and 27 (Fig. 17) were shaped by applying
small pieces of clay one after the other and modeling them with the fingers
to obtain a very thin band slightly in relief. This thin band is, in itself, a dec-
orative unit (Fig. 17, DU 19), which was further elaborated with impressed
and incised hatches (Fig. 17, DUs 26, 27). Nowadays the dalidali is created

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

8|:[

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i

10f^

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Ifc

134l^

Ul\\k

16\

19.

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21 J

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incised

impressed

applied

incised/impressed

incised/applied

impressed/applied

Figure 17. Decorative units used on Nasilai
pottery circa 1850 to 1930.

2 1

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•v

6 /

7 $

10 ,

1Lv

12 c

13^7

14m

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28 £f

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3!<a$&

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incised

^ impressed

► applied

impressed/applied

Figure 18. Decorative units used on present-day
Nasilai pottery.

by applying and flattening a cord of clay; a thin reed (gasau) or the handle of
a knife is then impressed transversely on the sharp edge of the wide band.

The forming of the wacodro or wave motif (Fig. 18, DU 17) is similar to
that of the present-day dalidali, but the reed or knife handle is impressed
vertically to the edge of the band. Both of these decorative units can be en-
riched with impressed hatches (Fig. 18, DUs 30, 31); if the wacodro is ob-
tained by impressing the fingertip, the nail imprint is left (Fig. 18, DU 32).

In spite of differing techniques and visual effects, DU 14 (Fig. 18) is ter-
minologically and functionally similar to a motif of incised, oblique hatches

26 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

that is found on old specimens (Fig. 17, DU 1 in continuous sequence).
Both are called banika and appear in the same position in section A.

A traditional decorative unit considerably elaborated is the soki (Fig. 17,
DU 20). In the present-day production the small, pointed knob assumes the
form of a large tetrahedron (Fig. 18, DU 20). A change in function parallels
the change in form: once it was a delimiter or a unit chiefly present in the
delimitation section; now the soki is nearly always used as a filler.

Among modern decorative units (Fig. 18), DU 25 is a stylized banana
bunch, while DU 29 is a stylized leaf. DU 12 had been created to replace
buttons (Fig. 18, DU 24), which did not stick well on too-dry surfaces. DUs
10 to 14 have been obtained by impressing nontraditional tools on the vessel
surface; in order, these are: the triangular end of a small iron bar, the side of
a razor frame, the end of a razor handle, the grooved plug of a toothpaste
tube, and two variants from a small, grooved plastic wheel.

Rules of Composition

Rules involve knowledge about how to use decoration in solving the decora-
tive problem. Rules are of two types: one specifies the framework within
which the basic units of decoration are to be used; the second type governs
the occurrence of basic units. As already mentioned, a rigid rule of composi-
tion imposes the division of the vessel surface into two parts, only one of
which is decorated. Another rule that can be considered rigid, limited to
the past Nasilai production, forces division of the decorative area into three
sections.

A general principle of harmony between vessel form and decoration
influences the potters' work until the choice of each decorative unit is made.
The following extracts from conversations with potter Seru Tosoqosoqo of
Nasilai show how this principle of harmony is formulated:

In decorating my vessel, I follow its form. If I have to decorate a
spherical vessel, such as the gunugunu, I will put a decoration
which is consistent with its form. . . . The form of a vessel cannot be
in disharmony with decoration; if it is so, that vessel will not be
beautiful.

. . . The oil lamp has a hemispherical, carinated body. So, when
you are about to decorate it, take a sasa and incise lines on its rim
and walls. If you model a cord of clay, apply it on the lamp surface
and flatten it; or, if you model knobs, that ramarama will not be
beautiful because such decoration hides its form. Use an incised or

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 27

impressed decoration in order that the beautiful profile of the lamp
may be well visible.

Decoration impose its own order on form; consequently, harmony
between decoration and form is necessary so the form is not hidden or,
worse, destroyed. If the form is undermined by decoration, the overall
aspect (irairai) of a vessel is in question. The saqa tabua shown in Figure 19
(top) may not be considered beautiful because in the arrangement of the
decorative area the opposite direction of the two groups of lines is in conflict
with the vessels form, which invites the eye to a single direction of vision
focusing on the side rim. Subsequently, some of the lines were erased and
incised again in one direction only (Fig. 19, bottom); moreover, the potter
thought it better to group the lines in fours with an intervening space to
obtain a field where he could arrange additional decorative units. Compared
to the first solution with its decorative bands in a continuous sequence, the
chosen one allows greater decorative enrichment.

Respecting the principle of harmony, several rules of composition can be

FIGURE 19. Arrangements of the decorative area of a saqa tabua.

28 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

applied in arranging fields and bands within the three sections, widening the
possibilities of combination. Other rules, the ones governing the choice of
decorative units and their arrangement in bands, give the potters a real free-
dom of combination, making the realization of numerous alternatives possi-
ble. A range of possible combinations implies a series of choices between
alternatives of equal potential, but just because the decorative process fol-
lows rules, one choice is not necessarily equal to another.

The differing validity of each choice makes the potters' statements on the
difficulty of decoration important and unequivocal, and throws light on their
decorative procedure. "Thinking" decoration, as a conscious act prior to
starting, consists of a total but nondetailed mental arrangement of the vessel
surface. Dividing the vessel surface into two areas — the plain and the deco-
rated— and then dividing the decorated area into fields by incising lines with
a knife is a method that reveals and helps the intense work of mental
arrangement. The vessel surface is like a sheet of paper and the knife like a
pencil: line after line, the surface is organized under the potters eyes. At any
moment, with a single and instantaneous act, the potter can control the
result achieved and more easily determine the next lines to incise or erase to
attain a satisfying arrangement. The process of delimiting a field and filling
it is then extremely helpful in choosing and arranging decorative units. In
effect, decoration is a process of gradual enrichment: fields are realized one
after another and filled in successive steps with a progressive narrowing of
the possible alternatives and an increasing facility in the selection and com-
position of the decorative units (see Gombrich 1979).

Decorative Units and Rules of Composition
in Three Pottery-Making Centers

Nasilai

Considering both the older and more recent Nasilai pottery, I shall try now
to see how decorative units are composed in fields and how these fields are
arranged in each of the three decorative sections.

Section A. On older vessels, whenever section A consists of a single deco-
rative band, the band is nearly always made up of small pointed knobs in a
continuous horizontal sequence (Fig. 17, DU 20). A band of such soki is
always featured prominently even when section A is made up of more than
one band. It can be preceded by DU 1 in continuous sequence or by DU 6
or 7 (Fig. 17). It can be followed by a band of DU 6 or 7 in continuous
sequence or by single or double band made up of DU 19, 27, or 26 (Fig. 17).

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 29

On recently produced specimens, section A shows a different configura-
tion owing to both the different decorative units used and their composition.
Soki have been partly replaced with big knobs and bands of wacodro and
dalidali used singly or together with other decorative units in well-defined
decorative fields. In past production, section A was usually decorated with
several bands, but the bands were not delimited or framed to form fields. In
the new configuration, dalidali and wacodro bands, which could have a
decisive visual function of separation, appear flattened. In contrast with a
band of soki, they may also be left out.

Section B. On older vessels, homogeneous fields are formed of parallel
vertical lines in continuous sequence of DU 8, 9, 23, 24, 14, or of DU 4,
which acts as filler and at the same time as the delimiter of DU 16 (Fig. 17).
These fields, alternating with a portion of plain surface, may be rendered
over the entire section B following the scheme a-a-a- . . . (hyphens denote a
portion of plain surface). When section B is divided into vertical fields, this
scheme forms one of two recurring configurations. The second config-
uration contains two heterogeneous fields arranged in alternate discontinu-
ous sequence {a-b-a-b- . . . ) or in alternate continuous sequence (abab . . . ).
More-involved compositions follow the schemes ab-a and ab-a-a-ba. One of
the two heterogeneous fields is made up of DU 8, 9, 23, or 24 (Fig. 17),
which are repeated in continuous, discontinuous, or alternate continuous
sequence. The second field may be constructed with DU 18 (Fig. 17) or,
more often, with parallel slanting lines.

The differing orientation of fields and decorative units in the second con-
figuration requires explanation. The verticality or horizontality of a field can
be stressed by the direction in which decorative motifs wind: vertical fields
and vertical bands, horizontal fields and horizontal bands are consonant. But
the other alternative is also exploited: section B can be divided into fields
conflicting with the orientation of the decorative units that they receive. Ver-
tical fields, arranged in trapezoidal sectors, break the continuity of the deco-
rated area and disguise its circularity. Horizontal fields do not; they present
nondelimited fields, that is, fields made up of different decorative bands in
continuous, often in alternate, sequence that are combined with delimited
fields, that is, fields made up of a framed band. Delimited fields can be
repeated in an alternate continuous sequence or in discontinuous sequence.

On some specimens of saqa moli, section B can be treated as a single
field: it can receive a kind of decoration called vakasai, made up of incised
crossed lines arranged in bands of different inclination; it can also be filled
with DU 6 or 16 (Fig. 17) in open order. The upper section of a saqa ikabula
is a slightly curved surface treated like a single, nondelimited field, which u

30 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

decorated with DU 11 or 12 (Fig. 17). The spaces delimited by the oblique
lines are filled with DU 1 or 18 (Fig. 17).

Section B of present-day Nasilai pottery can be divided into homoge-
neous horizontal bands according to the traditional scheme abed. . . . More
often the decoration is arranged in horizontal fields in continuous sequence
according to the scheme abacad . . . ; moreover, the bands filling the fields
consist of two or more decorative elements arranged in continuous alternate
sequence. A variant scheme, abab-aba, is often adopted in the composition
of vertical fields. A more usual rule of composition is that of delimiting sec-
tion B and filling it with decorative elements, such as fillets in open order,
applied bands in continuous sequence, or applied big buttons. On small
vessels, the decorative area can be treated as a single, delimited field filled
with homogeneous decorative elements in horizontal sequence or with
heterogeneous elements in continuous alternate sequence. On other small
vessels and on all jars, traditional composition schemes have completely dis-
appeared. The decorated area presents itself as a visually undelimited space
whose decorative elements are applied in a single band according to the two
last-mentioned sequences. Interestingly, the decorated area is always the
upper section of small vessels.

Section C. On concave rims with flat, oblique to the exterior lips, the
angle between rim and lip can be underlined with incised or impressed
oblique hatches. Lips are decorated with incised parallel lines that can act as
delimiters for a band of impressed oblique hatches. Incised parallel lines or
parallel bands of impressed hatches are recurrent on straight rims. A band
of soki along the edges or at the center of a handle underlines its curvature.
In the first configuration, the band of soki acts as delimiter of a field that
may be filled with parallel hatches, applied buttons in open order, or incised
parallel lines. In the second configuration, the soki band may constitute the
only decoration, or it can be delimited with incised hatches or impressed
parallel lines. Small handles of saqa tabua and gunugunu can be underlined
with incised parallel lines, hatches, or dentate impressions in open order. At
the top of handles of older specimens of gunugunu and saqa moli, a promi-
nent cylindrical applied knob is often found, which acts as a visual element
of the junction of the arms.

Lower Sigatoka Valley

The decorative units used by lower Sigatoka Valley potters are limited in
number and form. A semicircular impression of a dentate shell appears with
the greatest frequency (Fig. 20, a). Arranged in continuous sequence, this

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery

Figure 20. Decorative units used in the lower Sigatoka Valley.

unit decorates the lips of traditional and small-scale dari, the rim of vultt-
vulu, and the shoulders of small vessels. The semicircular impressions can
also be paired around the rim of traditional dari and the shoulders of small
vessels and jars (Fig. 20, b). Both single and paired arcs can be arranged in
discontinuous sequence around the rim ofvuluvulu and the aperture of pig

32 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

shaped vessels (Fig. 20, c). Around the rim of a vuluvulu, two single arcs
may be grouped in four units separated by a gap of plain surface (Fig. 20, d).
On three traditional dari, the spaces delimited by the arcs are filled with
impressed oblique hatches (Fig. 20, f). Single or double wavy lines, im-
pressed with the usual dentate shell, have been found around the shoulders
of jars.

A new decorative unit consisting of three impressions, two in a horizontal
discontinuous sequence and the third normal to the gap between the first
two, is framed by each scallop of the rim of some present-day vuluvulu (Fig.
20, g). Three dari manufactured in Nasama show serial notches on the outer
edge of the rim, made by impressing the fingertip (Fig. 20, h). Multiple in-
cised triangular units constitute a motif for decorating rims of vuluvulu and
shoulders of small vessels (Fig. 20, i).

The "carapace" of turtle-shaped vessels are decorated with new incised
linear motifs (Fig. 21) that are arranged taking as the point of reference the
"head," the four "flippers," and the tail end, or the head-tail axis; the cara-
pace can also be treated as an undifferentiated space. New impressed or
incised decorative units (arcs, points, lines) are arranged around the central
aperture of other specimens of turtle-shaped vessels.

The soki and the wacodro, two decorative units borrowed from the Nasi-
lai stylistic tradition, are now used as delimiters of the decorated area of
vessels with two, three, or four rims and of fruit-bunch vessels. Soki act also
as fillers. It is of interest to note how these two units differ from the Nasilai
forms, the result of potters' copying illustrations and applying entirely new
techniques. The Sigatoka Valley soki are more prominent than the present-
day Nasilai ones and have assumed a perfectly conical shape. The wacodro
band is considerably wider since it is shaped by applying a thick cord of clay
that is then squared rather than flattened and pointed. Serial notches are
made on the rectangular band in relief by impressing the fingertip.

Yanuya

The decorative units found on Yanuya pottery consist of finely incised
hatches, zigzag or straight lines, and small applied knobs. The knobs have a
cylindrical shape, instead of the hemispherical one typical of those from
Nasilai. The lines are arranged in triangular units in continuous or discontin-
uous sequence and the spaces may be filled with hatches or small knobs
(Fig. 22). These motifs are used as single bands to decorate the rims of vulu-
vulu and the shoulders of cubu. The lips of vuluvulu as well as the lips of
other vessel types are decorated with hatches made by impressing a thin
twig.

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 33

C£ E3 © 4H> # #

fU Slfc * 4fe sing

fin) ^}) w fo)

Figure 21. Decorative units used on the "carapace" of turtle-shaped
vessels, lower Sigatoka Valley.

j/\ y(K '!.'a.,' '!>\" • ooAooo Oflc

/ a/\ ;/V\: l/V\

|llAAA"lll

I'll

.V-;

Figure 22. Decorative units used in Yanuya.

Decorative units and rules of composition have remained unchanged in
Yanuya during the period considered.

Conclusions

From the foregoing, the stylistic changes in postcontact Fijian pottery can
be summarized as follows: (1) diversification in production, (2) miniaturiza-
tion and, in certain cases, increase in size, (3) flat bases and stands, (4) light-

34 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

ness, (5) words on vessel surfaces, (6) surface blackening, (7) glaze and dec-
oration on traditionally unglazed and undecorated vessels, and (8) general
upset of the decorative system.

These changes are cumulative in effect and all have been induced by the
tourist market and the new destination of the vessels. Production has diver-
sified to offer the purchasers — usually conducted-tour tourists but a small
number of more-discriminating professional and amateur collectors and
such, as well — a greater choice and increase the potters' chances of selling
their vessels and thus earning some money.

Two processes have been followed in the creation of new vessel types:
varying the form of traditional vessels or imitating vessels that are typical of
other areas, Western items, or elements of the local environment. The cre-
ation of new objects by variation and by imitation of elements of the local
environment can be considered traditional processes. For instance, saqa
dina, gusu i rua, mua i rua, kitu, and gunugunu of Nasilai are variations of
each other. Europeans who visited Fiji last century did not fail to note the
similarity of form between cooking pots and the nests of a solitary bee (a
species of Eumenes) that Fijians emblematically call "na kuro ni yalewa
kalou" (the goddess's pot), or between certain water containers and sperm
whale's teeth, turtles, and fruit bunches, suggesting that potters drew their
inspiration from them (see Smythe 1864:39; Gordon-Cumming 1881:246;
Johnston 1883:266).

In contrast, the imitation of Western items or of vessels typical of other
pottery centers is a recent practice, which was surely forbidden in the past
and which arouses mixed reactions, ranging from the most stubborn refusal
in Nasilai and Yanuya and the most eager acceptance in the Sigatoka Valley
Although pottery making is the typical activity of the women belonging to
the marine communities, the exchange of stylistic features among the differ-
ent centers must not have been widespread in the past. First of all, before
the arrival of the Europeans, intercommunity contacts were rather scanty
and occurred along well-established routes. Moreover, a sort of copyright
also acted as a restraint for the borrowing of stylistic features. According to
Gordon-Cumming, "under no circumstances the potters of a district will
copy a pot brought back from another island or district" (1881:18). This
exclusivity was strengthened by endogamous marriage rules and by restric-
tions according to which a girl could undertake pottery making only after
her marriage to a male member of her own community. The isolation of the
different pottery centers diminished after the mid- 1800s, in consequence of
the pacification and extension of the Fijian states. Nevertheless, it has
not completely disappeared, considering that the potters whom I visited
were generally unfamiliar with the output of the other villages, nor did they

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 35

know their exact names and locations. I noticed that respect for tradition is
stronger in Nasilai and Yanuya, two fishing communities, than in the lower
Sigatoka Valley, where I have recorded attempts to copy vessel types and
decorations of the Nasilai tradition.

In any case, potters creating a new type of vessel show a need for a con-
crete starting point from which to explore new formal possibilities. The pot-
ters universally justify this process by referring to the difficulty in thinking of
and then putting into concrete fonn an absolutely original object. Conceiv-
ing a new object requires considerable concentration; putting a new idea
into concrete form might require new technical innovations, the risk of fail-
ure, and wasted time. This is particularly true for pottery, whose production
process demands a correct execution of well-defined technical methods to
achieve the desired result.

In the case of creation by variation, I would particularly stress how a vari-
ant may differ by the addition or exclusion of minimal elements of form on
the same base form, or in a slight variation of both the base form and
another element. This way of working is doubly profitable since it is eco-
nomical both in the conception and execution; for this reason, it shows itself
as the most obvious course to follow. Only when the possibilities of formal
elaboration offered by a previously fixed "base type" are exhausted will the
potters turn to their environment for inspiration. This is what has been hap-
pening in the still-active pottery centers for decades. As an example, potters
in Lawai, Nakabuta, and Nayawa have reacted to the necessity to diversify
first by varying kuro, dari, and vuluvulu, and only then by conceiving new
forms and elaborating new techniques to produce them by imitating the
production of other centers. Also, new forms and techniques, usually con-
ceived by one potter, quickly diffuse among the other potters of the commu-
nity and even among those of neighboring centers. The first turtle-shaped
vessel manufactured in Lawai had been modeled by Leone Matalou, who
copied it from a publication. Displayed in the meetinghouse for sale to tour-
ists, it was copied by other Lawai potters; then its form was gradually modi-
fied, resulting in the current variants.

The form or i bulibuli of a vessel is inherited from the past and is consid-
ered to be fixed, constant over the years. A general rule prescribes this
invariability. Fijian potters justify it by adducing that their grandmothers
achieved a unique perfection that requires no further intervention, only
faithful perpetuation. Nevertheless, traditional vessel forms are slowly and
more or less consciously varied, accompanied by a general change in func-
tion. For the potters, the vessels are no longer utilitarian objects that may
also be beautiful but considered primarily decorative, their practical (unc-
tions disregarded or completely lost. New functions may accord with the dil-

36 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

ferent contexts for which the vessels are now intended. So a vuluvulu is con-
ceived not as a finger bowl but as an ashtray, involving formal changes such
as notches around the lip. A preference for the decorative function involves
also formal changes, such as the discontinuation of filling-holes and pouring
spouts.

At a more general level, all the vessels are conceived by the potters as
souvenirs: they remind tourists of their journey, the places visited, the
people met. For this reason, words like "Fiji," the villages name, or the pot-
ter's name are incised or impressed on the surface. The potters have further
adjusted their vessels to meet purchasers' demands. Miniaturization and
lightness facilitate direct tourist sales, diminishing problems of space and
weight in transport. Flat bases and stands are also a response to tourist pref-
erences, allowing the vessels to stand without using the traditional support
(toqi) made from dried banana leaves twisted into a circle. However, where
direct contact with tourists is difficult and the potters have to rely upon the
Government Handicraft Centre of Suva to sell their vessels, an increase in
size is considered economically preferable — bigger vessels sell for more
money — and personally more prestigious — "You must be a dau tulituli, a
master potter, to shape a 40- to 45-cm-high vessel!"

Stylistic changes (1) to (4) have affected technology. In the lower Siga-
toka Valley, these changes have given rise to intense experimental work to
find suitable techniques. There, the traditional forming technique allows the
modeling of large- and medium-size vessels only and requires much time
and skill; moreover, the technique is unsuitable for modeling the zoomor-
phic objects that constitute much of contemporary production. The new
technique in use today was designed first to solve the zoomorphic problem;
it then was found to be useful in shaping small-size vessels and jugs. In con-
trast, shaping small vessels has been an easy task in Nasilai, where a second-
ary tradition of very small vessels has existed since the mid-1800s. Thinning
walls and increasing size instead have affected technology there. In the tra-
ditional Nasilai forming technique the base was shaped using the knee as a
mold, requiring a thick slab of clay that, once hollowed, was difficult to thin.
In addition, the potters could not consistently make bases of a certain size
and perfectly round shape. Some eighteen years ago, when Seru Toso-
qosoqo started to make pottery, he tried to find a solution by using an enam-
eled basin and plastic buoys as molds. Thinning the walls caused an even
more radical change in the technique. Instead of adding coils of clay to build
them up, Tosoqosoqo started adding rectangular slabs to the base by flatten-
ing coils of clay, while his sister Maraya directly flattens a piece of clay and
uses a knife to cut out a slab of suitable size. These changes seem to stimu-
late the potters' technical skill, though producing small-scale vessels has
affected it negatively both in Nasilai and the lower Sigatoka Valley.

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 37

We have, in effect, the loss of technical knowledge entailed by a tradition.
This is true also as regards the blackening of vessel surfaces. The traditional
surface is of a uniform reddish color if unglazed and of a light color with dif-
ferent shades of red, pale maroon, green, and grey melting into each other if
glazed. The potters' efforts are directed at obtaining the traditional color
during firing and glazing, but the last two production phases are the least
controllable and the expected result is not always achieved. Moreover, the
dakiia tree, which grows in the interior of Viti Levu, is now protected by the
Ministry of Forestry. Tapping dahia sap was declared illegal in 1949 because
it damaged the trees. The tnakadre, once obtained through relatives and
friends living inland or bought at the town markets in Suva, Nausori, and
Sigatoka, is now very scarce. Consequently, the potters often have none with
which to glaze their vessels, and they substitute industrial varnish. Although
giving the same shiny effect as the traditional resin, varnish does not pro-
duce those shades of color that are so appreciated. The potters show disap-
pointment when they fail to achieve the desired effect but, since a black
object will probably please the tourists, they are not stimulated to improve
their skills.

The tourists' preference for glazed and decorated vessels has also led the
potters to glaze and decorate traditionally unglazed and plain ware. This is
true of cooking pots, which highlights the new attitude that considers the
vessels as decorative objects.

As regards the decorative system, we have seen that changes have
occurred in the decorative units used and in their composition. For the most
part, the decorative units now used fall within the category "three-dimen-
sional" or "applied." These are the only decorative units used on small
vessels, that is, on almost all the pottery manufactured in Nasilai today. On
other types of vessels applied decorative units are found together with
impressed ones, but the applied units predominate both numerically and
visually. Incised decorative units are hardly used. The frequency of the three
types of decorative units is thus reversed in comparison with the older pro-
duction.

According to the potters' statements, this change in decoration fits into a
general change in taste. Nowadays an applied decoration is preferred since
it stands out from the surface of the vessel, producing an effect of richness
and profusion conspicuous even at distance, whereas an incised or im-
pressed decoration tends to be lost in the glazing process: the resin, rubbed
on the surface while still hot from firing, fills the grooves and produces an
effect of flattening and visual darkening.

Although potters stress the ease of executing an incised or impressed dec-
oration compared to an applied one, they do not dwell on the aspect o\ con-
ceiving. Though easier to execute, an incised or impressed decoration is

38 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

actually much more difficult to realize because of the greater number of
decorative units that must be conceived. Overall, decorating a vessel with
applied units requires less concentration and is quicker: it is sufficient to
arrange properly only two of them to cover the entire decorated area of a
reduced-size vessel. Traditional, more elaborate schemes of composition
thus tend to disappear. Such being the case, it would not be wrong to say
that the aesthetic justification for preferring applied decoration has grown
out of the resolution of a technical problem, that of decorating easily and
properly.

According to tradition, decorative units should not be modified but, in
effect, they assume new forms with constant use. Their modification can be
slow and the potters can be unaware of the changes; instead, an individual
can create completely new decorative units that, once adopted by the group,
enrich the traditional reserve of forms. The potters can get inspiration from
elements of nature or the local environment that usually undergo a consid-
erable process of stylization; sometimes the similarity in form has been the
main criterion in the selection of a new decorative unit among the many
possible. Nowadays the potters also have a greater number of tools that can
be used for expressive purposes. These tools can be chosen by chance: the
potter wants a new decorative unit, but she has no idea what type; an iron
bar within reach can be impressed on a small piece of clay and, if the mark
left is satisfactory, it is used as a decorative unit. At times the potter has a
clear idea of the decorative unit she wants to create and she will go inten-
tionally in search of the tool that allows her to execute it. Although per-
mitted by tradition, the creation of new decorative units is not, anyway, very
common and equally practiced by all potters. A surface incision or impres-
sion or a piece of clay stuck on and modeled does not necessarily turn into a
new decorative unit. Either conceived by the potters or suggested to them
from the outside, a new sign must appear congruent both on the formal and
technical level with the set of decorative units already in use.

Achieving congruence requires competence and creative capabilities that
not all potters have or are inclined to put to the test. Therefore the creative
work of only a few potters influences the production of all the others. Once
adopted by a potter, a new decorative unit enriches her personal "vocabu-
lary"; with the passing of time it will be adopted by others and enrich the
traditional reserve of forms.

Before this happens, two contrasting and deeply felt exigencies must be
reconciled gradually. On one hand, each potter claims the right to distin-
guish herself from the others and, consequently, any open attempt at copy-
ing is harshly censured. On the other hand, the other potters' appreciation
and their willingness, even if only verbally expressed, to adopt a new decora-

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 39

tive unit are expected as signs of affirmation of the "adequacy" of the origi-
nator s creative capabilities. Disapproval of copying is totally absent within
the household, where, on the contrary, the potters themselves encourage
their daughters, sisters, and nieces to use the latest creations. Disapproval
rises with the increase of physical and social distance but, since adoption by
others raises self-esteem, new decorative units end up being used sooner or
later by all the potters. Use of specific decorative units consequently be-
comes more or less widespread, although each potter prefers some and not
others.

Most of the changes recorded here have been pursued consciously and
stubbornly by the potters. This suggests that the artists/crafters, rather than
the objects, should be placed at center stage in the task of understand-
ing ethnographic art; that whatever the rules, standards, and conventions of
style, whatever purposes and expectations a society may set up for its mem-
bers, the individual is a central factor in producing innovation. Nevertheless,
only some of the changes recorded have been acknowledged by the potters.
Their failure to recognize all the changes is due to the fact that the concept
of "tradition" that Fijian potters refer to is rather narrow, exclusively based
on the range of vessels manufactured by the preceding generation. Individ-
ual potters' knowledge of "tradition" lacks historical depth not only because
of the limited documentary sources available, but also, and above all,
because of the present decay of their craft.

According to the degree of respect for tradition, vessels are divided into
three different categories. The first category comprises the greatly valued
traditional vessels or ka rnakawa (ka, thing; makawa, ancient). To be recog-
nized as such, a vessel must have the established formal configuration whose
general distinctive features are roundness and balance, a rich and harmoni-
ous decoration on the proper portion of surface, and the traditional color. A
traditional vessel must also be lightweight and give out a metallic sound if
tapped. Finally, its surface must not show cracks. These last-mentioned
characteristics are technical rather than stylistic, but they have equal impor-
tance for Fijian potters in defining a traditional vessel and its intrinsic beauty.

According to the potters, the very common small vessels of today can be
included within the traditional category. In effect, water containers in the
shape of a turtle, fruit bunch, double canoe, or whales tooth so small as to
appear "of little practical use" were recorded by Roth (1935:226). Earlier,
Commander J. E. Erskine of HMS Havannah wrote of having seen drinking
vessels made in Rewa that were "so small as to appear intended for pla\ -
things for children" (1853:194). These small vessels were certainly part of a
well-defined group that could have been used for storing scented coconut
oil; anyway, taking their social destination into account, their intrinsic value

40 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

could be more symbolic/decorative than practical. Present-day vessels of
small size differ from this group in their merely economic value, in their
tourist destination, and in being replicas of full-size traditional vessels; they
could be considered traditional only in their faithfulness to their models.

Vessels showing an elongated body form, a flat base, or even a stand— all
recurring features in present-day production— continue to fall within the
standard types. They are given the traditional names, followed by the ex-
pression "ka vou," for example, saqa dina ka vou, gunugunu ka vou (new
saqa dina, new gunugunu), and so forth. Although the new stylistic features
do not destroy the form of the vessel, they do spoil the purity of the round-
ish line. Vessels with names incised on their surface and black in color are
also included in this category. These modified standard types of vessels
are accepted more readily in the lower Sigatoka Valley than elsewhere; in
valley communities they can be included among the valuables presented
during ceremonies on the occasion of births, deaths, marriages, and political
meetings. In Nasilai and Yanuya, they are considered the result of the pro-
gressive loss of technical skill and cultural control suffered by the potters'
community.

A third category, of completely new types of vessels, simply and generi-
cally named ka vou, "new objects," must be considered. The potters assume
an ambivalent position towards these vessels: they are prized as a result of
lively imagination and technical skill, yet disparaged for being outside of
tradition and undermining its validity as a source of common behavior
and identity.

Contrary to the supposed conservation (Foster 1956) or even stagnation
during the centuries (Balfet 1965) often attributed to pottery, both the
archaeological and historical records emphasize chronic change in Fijian
pottery and the rapidity with which it occurred following contact with West-
ern culture and the establishment of colonial rule. Certainly Fijian pottery is
one of the category of items that can change easily. The fact that the pace of
change in pottery making seems to have accelerated dramatically in the
postcontact period can then be ascribed to a greater susceptibility to change
provided by the modern socioeconomic context. The contemporary compet-
itive commercial context certainly makes potters more susceptible to inno-
vative influences, and thus provides more impetus to change, than did the
traditional noncommercial setting (in times when the status quo prevailed,
at least — at other times, such as during the mid- 1800s with the increasing
power of the Bau and Rewa chiefs, greater attention to rank differences had
repercussions for Nasilai potters, encouraging the creation of new types of
chiefly vessels). In a general context of innovative influences, however, it
must be cautioned that the nature and rate of change may differ from area

Stylistic Change in Fijian Pottery 41

to area within Fiji. Compared to the pottery of Nasilai and the lower Siga-
toka Valley, Yannya production has snowed itself, in fact, to remain more
faithful to traditional canons.

Several scholars have concluded that change in pottery does not reliably
and predictably accompany other kinds of cultural change (Charlton 1968;
Adams 1979; De Boer 1984). Contrary to this, the developments in Fijian
pottery of historic times show how changes in pottery making and socio-
economic changes are closely intertwined. If we categorize the sources of
change as either external or internal, it seems that pottery changes have been
generated more by external causes; these have stimulated the changes inter-
nal to the system, which then have stimulated further pottery changes. Since
pottery is not merely an amorphous collection of interchangeable elements,
these changes have interacted, and activity in one sector has led to activity in
another. All this does not imply that pottery has always, and erroneously,
been described in static terms. Rather it reminds us that we must take both
local circumstances and historical developments into consideration.

NOTES

This article is based on eight months of field research in Fiji, October 1986 to May 1987.
I wish to express here my appreciation to the Fiji Museum staff for their invaluable assis-
tance; my special thanks are due to the then director, Mr. Fergus Clunie, and to his assis-
tant and museum conservator, Miss Gladys Fullman. I also owe a great debt to the many
potters and \illagers who gave me a friendly welcome and furnished information on
pottery.

1. Miss Gordon-dimming and Baron von Hugel arrived in Fiji in 1875 just as Sir Arthur
Gordon, first governor of Fiji, was establishing the British colonial administration. They
soon became involved in collecting local artifacts. Gordon-Cumming's and von Hugel's
collections are at the University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Cambridge;
Gordons collection is at the Anthropological Museum, Marshall College, Aberdeen.
Lieutenant Wilkes and Captain Magrunder visited the Fiji Islands with the United States
Exploring Expedition, whose elaborate survey resulted in more accurate information on
the group, vital to European expansionism in the region. The collections of Fijian pottery
that I refer to are at the National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution,
Washington, D.C.

2. Only coconut-shell cups are used to drink yaqona nowadays. Their use spread through
Fiji with the Tongan tanoa and its respective kava rituals in the 1700s. Until then, Fijian
yaqona drinking was religious in nature, usually conducted within the spirit house and
involving only priests, chiefs, and male elders of a clan. No use was made of a cup, since
the drinker sucked yaqona directly from an earthenware bowl or dish, or from a vessel oi
vest tree (Intsia bijuga) wood. Earthenware yaqona drinking cups are later than coconut-
shell cups, most likely connected with the rise of the Rewa and Bau chiefs' power in the
mid-1800s.

42 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

3. Carved wooden masks are not found in traditional Fijian culture. For Fijian traditional
masks, see Clunie and Ligairi 1983.

4. Seru Tosoqosoqo of Nasilai is a young man who learned how to make pots in his ado-
lescence, instructed by his mother. He is proud to be a potter and enjoys general esteem.
Leone Matalou of Lawai is another example of a male potter. Although in the past pottery
making was practiced strictly by women, men today also undertake it to supplement their
families' incomes.

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1979 On the Argument from Ceramic to History. Current Anthropology 20:727-744.

Balfet, H.

1965 Ethnographical Observations in North Africa and Archaeological Interpreta-
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Bellwood, P. S.

1978 The Polynesian. London: Thames and Hudson.

Best, S.

1984 Lakeba: The Prehistory of a Fijian Island. Ph.D. thesis, University of Auckland.

Birks, L., and H. Birks

1966 Archaeological Excavations at Sigatoka, Fiji. Preliminary Report, no. 2. Sigatoka
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1983 Fijian Lamps. Domodomo 1:149-179.

Clunie, F, and W. Ligairi

1983 Fijian Masks. Domodomo 3:46-71.

Crosby, A.

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Auckland.

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De Boer, W. R.

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109-112.

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RABUKA'S REPUBLIC:
THE FIJI SNAP ELECTIONS OF 1994

Brij V. Lai
The Australian National University

Fiji went to the polls in February 1994 following the defeat of the Rabuka gov-
ernment's budget in November 1993. Confounding all predictions, Sitiveni
Rabuka and his parry returned to power with thirty-two of the thirty-seven
Fijian seats and formed a coalition government with the General Voters Party.
On the Indo-Fijian side, the National Federation Party returned with twenty of
the twenty-seven Indo-Fijian seats and the Fiji Labour Party with the remain-
ing seven. This article examines the background to the elections and the role
and motives of individuals and interest groups in precipitating the crisis, dis-
cusses the issues raised in the campaign, analyzes voting trends, and looks at
their implications. Indigenous Fijian unity is increasingly being frayed by pro-
vincial and class tensions. Encouraged to some extent by the gradual erosion of
the fear of Indo-Fijian dominance, Fijian people are beginning to air doubts
about the efficacy and survival of traditional institutions and practices in the
modern political arena. Rabuka promised to use his mandate to promote
national unity through the politics of inclusion. How he reconciles this with his
staunch advocacy of Fijian political paramountcy will test his mettle as a leader.

Fiji went to the polls in February 1994, eighteen months after the first
postcoup elections of 1992 and for the seventh time since gaining indepen-
dence from Great Britain in 1970. The snap election was called after the
defeat of the governments budget in November 1993. Sitiveni Rabuka s
opponents on the government benches hoped to use the election to oust
him from office. They had miscalculated. Rabuka and his party, the
Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei (SVT), returned to power with thirty-two
of the thirty-seven seats reserved for ethnic Fijians under the 1990 constitu-
tion. His mandate seemingly secure and his personal popularity high.

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

48 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Rabuka was unanimously reelected head of his party and reclaimed the
prime ministers office, forming a coalition government with the General
Voters Party (GVP), which won four of the five seats allocated to that com-
munity. On the Indo-Fijian side, the National Federation Party (NFP)
increased its representation from fourteen to twenty seats, while the Fiji
Labour Party won the remaining seven.

Elections rarely express the full range of issues and concerns of an elec-
torate. This election was conducted under a constitution that segregates the
electorates into separate racial compartments, so that issues of national con-
cern such as the review of the constitution, the resolution of the land tenure
problem, creeping corruption in public life, and the prospects of a govern-
ment of national unity were not debated. Forced to appeal to their sepa-
rate ethnic constituencies, the major political parties had neither opportu-
nity nor incentive to address transracial matters. The campaign, therefore,
powerfully reinforced ethnic chauvinism. It also produced unprecedented
fragmentation of the Fijian community and audible murmurs of social ten-
sions and regional and provincial rivalries that have distressed and confused
a people used to political unity at the national level. Finding solutions to
these difficulties remains at the top of Fiji's agenda.

The Constitution and Its Consequences

The elections were held under a controversial constitution decreed by the
interim administration in June 1990. It provides for a strong presidency
headed by a Fijian chief from one of three traditional Fijian confederacies
(Tovata, Kubuna, and Burebasaga), appointed by the all-Fijian Great Coun-
cil of Chiefs. The president enjoys extensive powers, including the right, act-
ing on his own judgment, to appoint the prime minister. Ratu Sir Penaia
Ganilau was the first president, succeeded at his death in December 1993
by the long-term Alliance Party prime minister, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara. In
declining health and lethargic even at the best of times, Ganilau was largely
an ineffectual, if reassuring, head of state. Mara, in contrast, is an experi-
enced politician sometimes at odds with Rabuka.

The constitution also provides for a bicameral legislature. The appointed
upper house, the Senate, consists of thirty- four members, twenty-four nom-
inated by the Great Council of Chiefs and ten representing other communi-
ties. The chiefs' nominees enjoy veto power over any legislation affecting
Fijian interests, broadly defined. The House of Representatives consists of
seventy members elected by racial constituencies. The ethnic Fijians have
thirty-seven seats, Indo-Fijians twenty-seven, General Electors five, and the
Council of Rotuma one. While Indo-Fijians and General Electors have

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 49

single-member constituencies, thirty-two Fijians are elected from multi-
member provincial constituencies and five from single-member urban con-
stituencies. In addition, the constitution also provides for special recognition
of and protection for Fijian and Rotuman rights and interests, and enjoins
the government to promulgate policies in their favor. In short, the constitu-
tion entrenches Fijian political supremacy in the political process, especially
the power of the chiefs, which according to its supporters merely acknowl-
edges and reaffirms the long-held principle of the paramountcy of Fijian
interests. But numerical supremacy in Parliament did not quell the resur-
gent provincial and regional tensions among Fijians. On the contrary, it
exacerbated them. These tensions contributed to the parliamentary defeat
of the Rabuka government.

The first general elections under the 1990 constitution were held in May
1992, when the SVT won thirty of the thirty-seven Fijian seats and formed a
government in coalition with the GVP (Lai 1993). Not having an outright
majority of seats in Parliament, the SVT was forced to seek the support of
other parties. One of them was Labour, which backed Sitiveni Rabuka over
his rival in the SVT, Josefata Kamikamica, after Rabuka agreed to undertake
a review of the constitution, resolve the land problem posed by the immi-
nent expiry of leases under the Agricultural Landlord and Tenants Act, and
reexamine the antilabor legislation and the value-added tax enacted by the
interim administration that had governed Fiji from 1987 to 1992. However,
once ensconced, Rabuka reneged on the spirit of the agreement. The
Labour Party could not continue to support a leader who procrastinated on
his promises to them, nor could it withdraw its support without appearing
petulant. With its plea for dialogue increasingly unheeded, Labour aban-
doned Rabuka in June 1993 and walked out of Parliament. By then the
party's fortunes were floundering; its milestone decision to back Rabuka had
become a millstone.

At the other end of the spectrum, Rabuka had to contend with the
demands of Fijian nationalists, with five seats, who had also supported him
against Kamikamica. They wanted the government to honor its campaign
commitment to "realize the aims of the coup," that is, to achieve the ideal of
Fijian paramountcy. On a number of occasions, fringe elements of the
movement took to the streets and threatened Rabuka with political reprisals,
scorning his efforts to promote multiracialism. The nationalists could not be
ignored, since they commanded substantial support in Viti Levu.

In May 1993, a group led by Sakiasi Butadroka and Ratu Osea Gavidi of
the Fijian Nationalist United Front launched the Viti Levu Council of
Chiefs, demanding recognition of the fourth confederacy, the Yasayasa Vaka
Ra, and the rotation of the presidency among all four. They also demanded

50 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

conversion of all nonnative land to native titles and that landowners' inter-
ests be given priority in the exploitation of resources on their land (Fiji
Times, 22 May 1993). The formation of the Viti Levu Council was the latest
of many vain efforts by western Fijians to gain a voice commensurate with
their numbers and contribution to the national economy.

Labour and the Fijian nationalists were not Rabukas only problems. He
had powerful dissident elements within his own party and in the Fijian
establishment generally, who had never accepted him as a legitimate leader.
The circumstances that brought him to power weighed against him. He was
not forgiven for defeating the paramount chief of the Burebasaga confeder-
acy, Adi Lala Mara, for the presidency of the SVT. Nor, especially, was he
forgiven his startling public criticism of Ratu Mara, calling him a baka
(banyan) tree under which nothing grew, "a ruthless politician who has been
allowed to get away with a lot," a man who had the temerity to criticize a
constitution that had made him vice-president (Daily Post, 11 Dec. 1992;
Pacific Islands Monthly, Aug. 1990). Nor, again, was Rabukas expressed
preference for basing social status on achievement rather than birth well
received among chiefly Fijians.

For his part, Mara ridiculed Rabuka as an angry, simpleminded colonel.
Rabukas rival, Kamikamica, Mara said, "will make a good prime minister"
(The Weekender, 23 July 1993). Mara was also critical of Rabukas steward-
ship of the SVT, blaming him indirectly for poor relations with the Great
Council of Chiefs (Islands Business, Feb. 1994). The tension between the
two men was not surprising, for they are similar in temperament: authoritar-
ian, autocratic, emotional, and possessed of a sense of personal destiny as
saviors of their people. Mara is also conscious of his chiefly role and respon-
sibilities and seems inclined to regard Rabuka as an upstart commoner. The
pro- Mara faction of the SVT not only refused to join Rabukas cabinet but
became vocal critics. Among them were Mara's son, Finau, and Kami-
kamica, who had refused Rabukas cabinet offer several times. In the Senate,
Adi Finau Tabakaucoro, a minister in Mara's interim administration, cham-
pioned the anti-Rabuka cause.

Rabukas own conduct did not help his image or performance. His casual
remarks on sensitive subjects and his tendency to think aloud on important
policy matters left him open to public ridicule and bewildered his col-
leagues. His inexperience was apparent. According to critics, Rabuka did
not behave in a manner befitting the dignity of the country's highest elected
official. One Fijian observer articulated a widely held view: "Rabuka is
sometimes unpredictable, tends to be highly emotionally inclined and ap-
parently tries to please everyone. Despite his most valiant efforts, he rushes
into important decisions without much consultation or forethought. The end

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 51

result of this is more often than not he winds up contradicting himself or his
cabinet" (Islands Business, June 1993). Rabuka came across as a simple man
with a decent heart who was locked in a military mind-set of command and
obedience, albeit qualified by impulsiveness and at times capriciousness.
His openness, accessibility, and eagerness to please, as well as his inability to
discipline dissidents, contributed to his parliamentary downfall as much as
the machinations of his opponents.

The Rabuka Government: Performance and Problems

On winning office in 1992, the government faced two immediate tasks. One
was to consolidate its position among the taukei (indigenous Fijians), partic-
ularly among its potentially explosive fringe. The other was to improve the
country's coup-scarred image internationally. The latter was relatively easy.
Rabuka made state visits to Australia and New Zealand and represented Fiji
at the South Pacific Forum in Honiara. Everywhere he maintained an
appropriately low profile. The visits were successful in restoring full diplo-
matic and defense links with Australia and New Zealand, and reassuring
friends in the region. Fiji is still out of the Commonwealth, though rejoining
is a long-term goal of the Great Council of Chiefs.1 Older Fijians also wish to
reestablish direct links with the British monarchy, but that is unlikely in the
absence of a widely acceptable constitution.

Locally, Rabuka's performance was not as smooth. His power base within
the SVT caucus and in the provinces was insecure. To consolidate it, he tried
to co-opt potential opponents who had lost in the elections. Many were
rewarded with seats in the Senate, diplomatic jobs, or positions on statutory
bodies. In cabinet and other appointments, Rabuka worked on the principle
of provincial balance. Each province had to be represented in the cabinet
and in the higher echelons of government. Indeed, when some members
were demoted or dismissed for poor performance, they attacked the prime
minister. Viliame Saulekaleka, dismissed assistant minister from Lau, Mara's
province, accused Rabuka of being anti-Lauan (Daily Post, 30 Oct. 1993).
Ilai Kuli, mercurial sacked minister of posts and telecommunications,
treated his dismissal as a betrayal of the people of Naitasiri. Bua threatened
to block the opening of the F$10 million Nabouwalu Hospital if its repre-
sentative in the cabinet, Koresi Matatolu, was removed (Fiji Times, 28 May
1993). Rabuka may have had his mandate, but he had to work with a team
whose political loyalties were divided.

In his first few months in office, Rabuka promulgated a number of pro-
Fijian policies. In education, the government continued with the special
F$3.5 million set aside annually since 1984 for Fijian tertiary education, and

52 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

a special Fijian Education Unit was established in the Ministry of Education
to monitor progress. The ministry also created special educational media
centers in Fijian schools to improve the teaching of science. On the eco-
nomic front, while continuing its privatization policies, the government pro-
posed measures to propel more Fijians into the commercial sector, where
they have been conspicuous by their absence. These included a small busi-
ness agency to advise and train Fijians, providing loans to provincial councils
to increase their shares in Fijian Holdings Limited, giving that investment
company priority in buying shares from privatized government enterprises,
and proposing income-tax exemption for Fijian-owned businesses for up to
twenty years (Fiji Times, 27 Aug. 1993). The government also set aside a
F$2 million fund to provide interest-free loans payable over thirty years to
certain mataqali to buy back freehold land (Fiji Times, 25 Feb. 1993). Late
in 1993, it announced the transfer of the administration of all Crown Sched-
ule A and B lands from the Department of Lands to the Native Lands Trust
Board.2 Eventually, these lands will revert to native title.

Many of the government's pro-Fijian initiatives were cautiously sup-
ported by Indo-Fijian members of Parliament, though Labour leader
Mahendra Chaudhary asked the government to examine the fundamental
reasons why Fijians were not succeeding in certain fields. "There must be
something wrong within the system itself that with all these resources, the
results are not forthcoming" (Islands Business, Aug. 1993). At the same
time, they pointed out the blatant discrimination against their community
in the public sector. The principle of balance had been ignored, said
Chaudhary. Of 9,597 civil servants in 1992, 5,897 or 61.4 percent were
ethnic Fijians and only 3,186 or 33.2 percent Indo-Fijians. On the boards
of statutory organizations, the paucity of Indo-Fijians was glaring. For in-
stance, there was not a single Indo-Fijian on the board of the Reserve Bank
of Fiji, the Fiji Broadcasting Commission, or, incredibly, the Fiji Sugar Cor-
poration.3 Opposition leader Jai Ram Reddy pleaded with the government
for fairness and equity, but the government had no incentive to address con-
cerns of the non-Fijians. Consequently, Indo-Fijian disenchantment grew.
Rabuka was indifferent.

No one felt more betrayed than the Fiji Labour Party, whose support had
made Rabuka prime minister. The conditions for that support were not
observed by the government (Lai 1993). The 10 percent value-added tax on
most goods and services was retained as part of the government s progres-
sive tax-reform package. The labor-reform legislation, whose ultimate inten-
tion was to cripple trade unions, was unenforced though it remained on the
books (Fiji Times, 14 Apr. 1993). And though there was some talk, there was
no action on the pressing issues surrounding the renewal of leases after the

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 53

expiry of the Agricultural Landlord and Tenants Act. On his promise to ini-
tiate a review of the constitution, Rabuka retorted: "To review means to look
at what has been done. It does not mean that we have committed ourselves
to making any changes or abolitions" (Pacific Report, 28 June 1993).

Government of National Unity and Constitutional Review

In fact, the government had commited itself to a review within five years but
did not regard it as a matter of any urgency. Then, suddenly in December
1992, Rabuka mooted the idea of a government of national unity. Rabuka's
proposal caught the country by surprise. The idea has a long history. Some
form of coalition government was mentioned in the negotiations leading to
independence, but nothing came of it. In 1977, the Alliance Party mooted
the idea, only to withdraw it when the NFP criticized it as the party's effort
to bolster its sagging image as a multiracial organization (Lai 1992a:243-
245). Rabuka's concept was equally vague and emotional (Fiji Times, 5 Dec.
1992). In May 1993, Rabuka elaborated:

What I and those who support my idea envisage is a style of govern-
ment that brings the communities together, that enables all ethnic
groups to cooperate jointly in the affairs of government and the
work of legislature. I want the leaders of Fijian, Indian and General
voters to define the middle ground, the political centre, where they
can pool their wisdom and their abilities in the national interest. I
want to see them united in pursuit of defined national objectives —
objectives that serve the interests and welfare of us all, Fijians,
Indians and General voters. In my vision of what I consider to be
the ultimate good of the country, I see very clearly that it is in all
our interest to develop a social and political partnership that tran-
scends suspicion and distrust, that elevates us as a nation and gives
us a combined sense of common destiny and purpose. (The Week-
ender, 21 May 1993)

This statement was hailed as a major declaration by the government,
though, in truth, it was much the same as what Rabuka had stated in 1990:

I would like to have a government of national reconstruction. First
we look at what Fiji needs first. You won your seats on these poli-
cies, we won our seats on these policies. You have extreme left
views, we have extreme right views. Let's forget about these ex-
tremities and let's work on this sort of grey areas in our policies

54 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

where they sort of merge. That's where we run Fiji for the next five
years. (Pacific Islands Monthly, Aug. 1990)

Rabukas national unity government would have eighteen cabinet members,
twelve from the ruling all-Fijian SVT, two each from NFP and Labour, and
one each from the Nationalists and the GVP. In this respect, Rabukas offer
differed little from the Alliance Party's offer in 1977.

Rabukas proposal received a mixed response. The SVT caucus com-
plained of not being consulted. The Fijian nationalists supported the
concept, but only on condition that their program for Fijian supremacy "will
still be maintained through the government of national unity" (Fiji Times,
11 Dec. 1990). The violence-threatening faction of the Taukei Movement
urged all Fijian members of Parliament to "completely reject and throw out
of the window with precipated [sic] haste the devilish concept of govern-
ment of national unity" (Fiji Times, 22 Dec. 1992). They postponed their
protest marches only when Rabuka assured them that "promoting national
unity should never be misinterpreted or misconstrued by anyone to mean
that he and his government were giving away the special position conferred
on the Fijians and Rotumans, as the host communities in Fiji, under the
1990 constitution" (Fiji Times, 19 Feb. 1993).

Many in the opposition treated Rabukas proposal cynically. Labour's
Simione Durutalo argued that the unity proposal was nothing more than an
attempt "to repackage his 1987 image of an anti-Indian" (Fiji Times, 19 Feb.
1993). NFP leader Reddy was skeptical but gave Rabuka the benefit of the
doubt. Again, as in 1981, he raised probing questions. There had to be some
consensus on the basic principles before the proposal could be discussed
further. "I am not going to nominate numbers," he said, but "at the end of
the day in a government of national unity, Indians should be fairly repre-
sented. We should have a figure that bears some resemblance to their num-
bers, contribution and work, and not just a token number" (The Review,
Mar. 1993).

In March 1993, the government did what it should have done in the first
place: it presented a paper to the Great Council of Chiefs, adding that the
proposal was not of "paramount importance" (Fiji Times, 18 Mar. 1993). In
the council many chiefs, including Mara, questioned the prospects for a gov-
ernment of national unity under the 1990 constitution. Mara's public doubts
and his advice that the government "should not overly make their intention
known to others" (The Weekender, 28 May 1993) sealed the fate of the issue.
The council decided on more grass-roots consultation and sent the proposal
to the provincial councils. The chiefs' decision was puzzling. A Fiji Times
editorial commented:

Kahuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 55

Consultation is a good thing. But somewhere along the line some-
one has got to be able to make the decision. In this case it is the
Great Council of Chiefs. If it cannot deal with the issues that it has
been entrusted to deal with, then it should reconsider its role. Why
do the chiefs need to refer back to the people? The people have
picked their representatives to the Council. The people should
have discussed these things before the meeting. (Fiji Times, 29 May
1993)

At the time of this writing, the proposals are still with the provincial
councils.

With these proposals languishing, Rabuka was forced to address the issue
of constitutional review sooner than he had anticipated. As the first step, he
set up a cabinet subcommittee to draft the terms of reference for an inde-
pendent constitutional commission. Chaired by Deputy Prime Minister
Filipe Bole, the committee was expanded to include four members of the
opposition, including Jai Ram Reddy. After several meetings, the committee
agreed on a broad set of guidelines. The review would take place before the
1997 general elections, which would be held under a new constitution.
Moreover, the review would not be confined to the electoral provisions of
the 1990 constitution, "but would be of a broad nature, covering the 1990
constitution as a whole," and it would also include a consideration of the
system of government deemed most appropriate for Fiji. The aim would be
to produce a homegrown — autochthonous — constitution that addressed the
needs of the country. Finally, the constitution would reflect some basic prin-
ciples "that would serve as the foundation for the promotion and reinforce-
ment of national unity in Fiji" (Reddy 1993a). The new constitution, Rabuka
said, "is to be an agreed statement of our national purpose, an agreed cove-
nant binding all our different communities and citizens of Fiji to a solemn
commitment to work for the peace, unity and progress of our country and to
promote the welfare and interests of all its people."4

After intense private negotiations, the subcommittee prepared draft
terms of reference. Bearing in mind the need to promote "racial harmony
and national unity and the economic and social advancement of all commu-
nities and bearing in mind internationally recognised principles and stan-
dards of individual and group rights," the commission would

Take into account that the Constitution shall guarantee full protec-
tion and promotion of the rights, interests and concerns of the
indigenous Fijian and Rotuman people . . . Scrutinise and consider
the extent to which the Constitution of Fiji meets the present and

56 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

future constitutional needs of the people of Fiji, having full regard
for the rights, interests and concerns of all ethnic groups of people
in Fiji . . . Facilitate the widest possible debate throughout Fiji on
the terms of the Constitution of Fiji and to inquire into and ascer-
tain the variety of views and opinions that may exist in Fiji as to how
the provisions of the Fiji Constitution can be improved upon in the
context of Fiji's needs as a multi-ethnic and multi-cultural society
[and] . . . Report fully on all the above matters and, in particular,
to recommend constitutional arrangements likely to achieve the
objectives of the Constitutional Review as set out above. (Ministry
of Information press release)

These terms caused controversy. Labour thought them too restrictive and
called in its campaign literature for specific reference to the "internationally
recognised principles and standards of civil, political, cultural, economic and
social rights as enshrined in the United Nations Universal Declaration of
Human Rights and related covenants." The interests of indigenous Fijians
and Rotumans should be protected "without sacrificing the rights, interests
and concerns of all other people in Fiji." The 1970 and not the 1990 consti-
tution should form the basis for future constitutional review. The commis-
sion, the Labour Party said, should report within twelve months. Labour
also argued that the terms of reference should have been drafted by a par-
liamentary committee, not by a lopsided cabinet subcommittee.5 The gov-
ernment had, in fact, changed the sequence of the review process and
authorized the cabinet subcommittee to draft the terms of reference for and
appoint the independent commission. Labour was being effectively margin-
alized in a process it had helped initiate. The procedures for the review and
Reddys participation in it became an issue in the campaign among the Indo-
Fijians.

Strikes, Scandals, and Tony Stephens

Unfortunately for the government, many of its initiatives were overshad-
owed by scandals conveying the impression of disarray and discord. There
was the strike in Fiji Posts and Telecommunications department in 1992
over the sacking of the chief executive, which led to the relegation of Tele-
communications Minister Ilai Kuli. Fijian Holdings Limited was facing alle-
gations of insider trading by leading members of its management board.
Similar allegations surrounded the awarding of a tender to upgrade the Nadi
International Airport to a company, Minsons Limited, in which Rabuka
and his wife and Civil Aviation Minister Jonetani Kaukimoce had shares.

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 57

The Ports Authority was rocked by a report that uncovered excess expendi-
ture on overseas trips by its board members, irregularities in sales of equip-
ment, personal insurance discrepancies, and misappropriation of funds. And
questions were asked about the purchase of the prime ministers new resi-
dence (owned by the Ganilau family's Qeleni Holdings) for F$650,000 when
the government valuer had estimated its value at F$465,000.

These incidents epitomized a general culture of corruption in public life
that seemed to have "reached alarming proportions," made even worse by
"the lack of action taken by the authorities on some of the more serious mis-
appropriation cases involving hundreds of thousands of dollars" (Fiji Times,
21 Aug. 1993). Politicians and civil servants demand bribes openly; greasing
the palm is becoming an accepted fact of life in contemporary Fiji. Jai Ram
Reddy raised some of these issues in his budget speech in November 1993:

When a quarter of a million dollars go missing from our police
force, when exhibits seized by police from suspects go missing from
police stations, when stolen goods exhibited in a court of law disap-
pear; when frauds and dubious political hangers-on can get into key
positions in important public sector organisations, then it is time for
the people of this country to sit up and think about the rot and it is
time for this House to do something for this state of affairs. (Han-
sard, Nov. 1993)

But these allegations paled into insignificance beside the so-called
Stephens affair. Anthony Stephens, adviser to the Fijian nationalists, a busi-
nessman with previous brushes with the law, was arrested in 1988 in con-
nection with the importation of pen pistols and detained for forty days.
Discharged, he sued the government for F$30 million in damages, but
agreed to settle for F$10 million. Under the terms of a deed of settlement
agreed on between him and the attorney general, Stephens was to be paid
F$980,000 cash in an out-of-court settlement. For the remaining amount,
the government would pay off two mortgages under Stephens's name with
the Home Finance Company and the National Bank of Fiji, settle claims
with the ANZ Bank for a guarantee to Stephens's company, Economic
Enterprises, dismiss a bankruptcy action against him, transfer the Soqulu
Plantation in Taveuni, under mortgage control of the National Bank of Fiji,
to Stephens, and settle all matters relating to three land titles owned by
Stephens's family. According to Stephens and his associates, money from the
settlement would be used to arrange a F$200 million loan from a Kuwaiti
source to further Fijian business interests.

Astonishingly, the attorney general signed the deed, which was exempt

58 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

from income tax, land-sales tax, and the value-added tax. As became clear
later, Stephens's connections evidently reached the highest levels of govern-
ment. But before the deed could be executed, it was exposed in Parliament
by Jai Ram Reddy. The deed was merely an attempt to defraud the govern-
ment, said Reddy. A public uproar greeted the revelations, and people won-
dered who else, besides the attorney general (Aptaia Seru), was implicated.
As a Fiji Times editorial said, "the sorry mess suggests powerful forces,
answerable to no one but themselves, are at work to undermine constituted
authority. . . . What remains to be seen now is governments commitment to
honest and clean government. Will the Stephens' claims be properly investi-
gated or swept under the carpet?" (1 Oct. 1992). Faced with public pres-
sure, the government agreed to a commission of review. Sir Ronald Ker-
mode, retired Supreme Court justice, was appointed to head the inquiry.

Kermode presented in July 1993 a report that was damaging to anyone
even tangentially involved (Kermode 1993). Etuate Tavai in the prime min-
ister's office, the nationalists' contact there, "was not a truthful witness" and
had "deliberately misled parliament." Attorney General Seru was a weak
man who had strayed from the path of rectitude under pressure. Most seri-
ously, Kermode found Sitiveni Rabuka's conduct wanting. The prime minis-
ter had ignored advice from his legal officers and opted for that which
supported Stephens's claims; he had interfered in the attorney general's
"area of responsibility by sending him a minute which directed him to settle
a claim that he must have known was outrageously high"; he "had conspired
with Stephens to obtain an overdraft from the National Bank of Fiji by false
pretences or by fraud"; and he had deceived Parliament. In a sentence that
was widely quoted, Kermode wrote: "In my opinion the Prime Minister's
actions as regard the events leading up to the execution of the Deed were
not only improper but prima facie illegal" (1993).

The opposition asked Rabuka to step aside until an independent inquiry
cleared him. Rabuka refused to act at all on the grounds that Kermode had
exceeded his terms of reference, but agreed reluctantly to a judicial review
of the commission's findings when some of his backbenchers threatened
rebellion. Ilai Kuli, in fact, filed a no-confidence motion in Rabuka's gov-
ernment in September 1993, which he withdrew under pressure from the
Methodist Church leader Manasa Lasaro. For its part, the Taukei Move-
ment, or what was left of it, threatened to take to the streets in support of
the beleaguered prime minister, only to be told that those who planned
to take the law into their own hands should "prepare themselves to face
the consequences of their actions" (Fiji Times, 27 Nov. 1993). The judicial
review is still in process, but it is unlikely to be taken seriously now that
Rabuka has been returned with a secure mandate. Nonetheless, the whole
saga was damaging for Rabuka's personal reputation.

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 59

Budget Debate and Rabuka's Defeat

The Stephens affair provided the opportunity to topple Rabuka during the
November 1993 budget session, when his opponents voted with the opposi-
tion Indo-Fijians. The substance and direction of the budget was consistent
with the governments broad philosophy of economic development, which
included deregulation of the economy and structural market and labor
adjustments to increase Fiji's international competitiveness. The govern-
ment proposed to reduce duties on most imported goods to 20 percent
(from 50 percent in 1989); remove license control on basic food items such
as fish, rice, and powdered milk, with butter and panel wood targeted for
zero tariff in the near future; increase duty on alcoholic beverages, tobacco,
and fuel; and extend tax concessions to companies exporting 30 percent of
their products. The defense force would be returned to its pre-1987 levels
over two to three years and the public sector pay package kept to 3 percent
of the GNP. Government expenditure was expected to be F$800 million and
revenue to be about F$644 million, providing for a net deficit of F$105 mil-
lion or 4.8 percent of the GDP. This was "an unacceptable level" of govern-
ment spending, Finance Minister Paul Manueli said. "We must start to
control the size of the deficit, early, before it starts to control us" (Manueli
1993).

For Jai Ram Reddy, that was the heart of the problem. "The Government
has been strong on rhetoric but weak on action. There is a yawning gap
between what this Government says and what it does, raising serious ques-
tions both about its competence and ability to manage the nations econ-
omy" (Reddy 1993b). He and others criticized the high level of expenditure
and deficit, misguided expenditure priorities, and socially regressive aspects
such as higher fiscal duties on basic consumer items and transportation
goods. The overall picture of economic management was disturbing. Gov-
ernment expenditure had increased from F$723.4 million in 1992 to
F$829.9 in 1993 revised estimates and was projected to increase to F$847.2
million in 1994; the gross deficit had increased from F$ 120.9 million in 1992
to a F$ 184.5 million revised estimate in 1993 and was projected to F$ 150.2
million in 1994; net deficit after loan repayment had increased from F$68.7
million in 1992 to F$ 105.3 million in 1993 and was projected optimistically
to F$84.0 million in 1994. Government expenditure as a percentage of GDP
had increased from 35.1 percent in 1992 to 38.0 percent in 1993 and was
projected to increase to 36.9 percent in 1994.

Reddy's criticism was not surprising; that of government backbenchers
was. Kamikamica led the charge. He did not question the broad direction <>l
government policy, for he had, as the interim finance minister, been the
author of many aspects of it.6 He agreed that government's direct involve-

60 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

merit in economic activity should be steadily wound down. And he urged the
government to do more to promote specifically Fijian projects in the educa-
tional and economic sectors (Hansard, 17 Nov. 1993). The thrust of his criti-
cism was that the government lacked financial discipline to implement cor-
rect policies. At least Kamikamica was consistent. Finau Mara acknowl-
edged that the finance minister had "very little choice in this budget," but
he was instrumental in orchestrating the Fijian vote against it though he was
away in Australia when the vote was taken. Cabinet minister Ratu Viliame
Dreunimisimisi was "not convinced that the budget should be abandoned"
(Hansard, 29 Nov. 1993), but six hours later he voted against it.

Emboldened by mild criticism, the government rejected the oppositions
offer to help it revise the budget. Even the prime ministers confidential
memorandum to his two deputy prime ministers and the minister of finance
to decrease the deficit by F$35 to F$39 million, increase the police alloca-
tion by F$2 million, and reduce the duty on basic food items was ignored.
The governments complacency was misplaced. Knowing that the twenty-
seven Indo-Fijian members of Parliament were going to vote against it,
Rabuka s opponents saw their chance. When the budget came up for the
second reading on 29 November, it was unexpectedly put to the vote. To the
governments consternation, six Fijian members and one GVP member
(David Pickering) joined the twenty-seven Indo-Fijians in voting against it.
Miscalculation and misplaced trust had cost the government dearly. Rabuka
accepted part of the blame. "I think my military officer mentality came into
focus and led me to believe that once a directive is given, everybody would
toe the line, which they did not" (Fiji Times, 3 Dec. 1993).

The manner of the defeat was surprising. In normal parliamentary prac-
tice, the second reading is regarded as procedural. It is followed by the
committee stage (in this case 30 November to 3 December), when the
whole house would constitute itself a committee and scrutinize the pro-
posed legislation. At this time members of Parliament can propose changes
and amendments or seek explanation of particular parts. The substantive
vote on a bill then takes place. But in this case, the budget bill was defeated
before it reached the committee stage. It seems certain that the Fijian dissi-
dents had not planned to use the budget to bring down the Rabuka govern-
ment. Their plans materialized only as the debate proceeded and only when
the position of the Indo-Fijian parties became clear. They thus seized the
second reading of the budget "as their best politically credible opportunity
to bring down the government" (The Review, Dec. 1993).

Rabuka questioned the dissidents' motives in his address to the Great
Council of Chiefs on 15 December. Those in his party who voted against
the budget could have voted for the government at the second reading,

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 61

while warning it to make changes before the bill came up for the substan-
tive vote. This would have been consistent with the decision of the parlia-
mentary caucus meeting of the SVT. The government had been deprived of
the opportunity to consider amendments at the third reading (committee
stage). Perhaps, Rabuka told the chiefs, "there might have been other con-
siderations that lay behind their determination to vote against their own
Government" (Rabuka 1993). Indeed there were. As some Fijian dissidents
told Manueli, "they were going to challenge the budget not because they
were opposed to it, but because they wanted to change the leadership"
(ibid.).

Before informing the SVT caucus, the dissident group had informed
Mara of their intention so that "he would have more time to prepare himself
for the outcome of the voting" (Fiji Times, 8 Dec. 1993). How the dissidents
wanted Mara to behave is unknown, but this is what the Fiji Labour Party
wrote to Mara:

It is quite evident to us that the defeat of the 1994 Budget had
other quite compelling reasons than the unacceptability of the
Budget itself. Over a period of last few months, the credibility of
the Rabuka Government has been brought [in] to serious question.
The government has been rocked by one scandal after another. . . .
However Prime Minister Rabuka seems to have cared very little, if
at all, about these matters and has carried on in the fashion of busi-
ness as usual. These incidents have seriously eroded the confidence
of the Opposition members and a number of government members
of parliament in Prime Minister Rabuka. We feel Prime Minister
Rabuka no longer enjoys the confidence of a majority of members
of parliament and should therefore be asked to tender his resigna-
tion, following which Your Excellency should appoint a new Prime
Minister who has majority support. The new Prime Minister should
then appoint his cabinet and carry on the task of governing Fiji.
We, Sir, would urge you to explore the above suggestion should it
be constitutionally possible for you to do so."

Whatever the Fijian dissidents and the Labour Party proposed, the con-
stitution gave the prime minister three options. Within three days of a crisis,
he could advise the president to dissolve Parliament and call for fresh gen-
eral elections. Second, he could tender his and his governments resignation
and allow the president to choose another (Fijian) member of Parliament.
Only if the prime minister failed to act within the stipulated three days
could the president pursue his own initiative.

62 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Rabuka acted expeditiously. At 7:30 on the night on which the budget
was defeated, he advised Mara to prorogue the Parliament from 19 January
and call for a general election within thirty days. Reddy, himself a lawyer,
endorsed Rabuka s decision, which led Mara to say somewhat opportunisti-
cally, "Mr Reddy saved my day." The Fiji Labour Party used this comment in
the election campaign to hitch Reddy to Rabuka, insinuating that Mara
would have replaced Rabuka had it not been for Reddy s contrary advice. In
truth, it was not Reddy but the constitution that saved Mara's day, for any
other decision would not only have been unconstitutional, but would have
implicated him even deeper in the machinations of the anti-Rabuka faction.
That said, it was in Reddy's interest to go to the polls to capitalize on his
party's strong showing in public opinion polls.

Political Parties and the Campaign

Eight major political parties contested the election, four of them Fijian.
These included the SVT, the Fijian and Rotuman Nationalist United Front,
Soqosoqo ni Taukei ni Vanua (STV), and the Fijian Association Party. Non-
Fijian parties were the General Voters Party and the All National Congress,
and, in the Indo-Fijian community, the National Federation Party and the
Fiji Labour Party. We will look briefly at the platforms of the various parties,
though it is hard to say whether manifestos mattered much in voters' minds.

The SVT was the main Fijian political party, sponsored by the Great
Council of Chiefs and formally launched in 1990. Sitiveni Rabuka was its
president and parliamentary leader. But although sponsored by the chiefs
and intended to be an umbrella organization for Fijians, the SVT was not
supported by all, as was evident in the 1992 elections when it got only 66
percent of all the Fijian votes and a substantially lower figure in important
regions of Viti Levu. Others disliked Rabuka s leadership of the party and
had not forgiven him for his "flagrant flouting of tradition and chiefly proto-
col" in defeating Mara's wife, herself a high chief, for the post of party presi-
dent (Fiji Times, 4 Dec. 1993). There were problems, too, in the party's
organization. Theoretically the management board ran the party's affairs,
but what was the role and responsibility of the fourteen provinces that sub-
scribed to its coffers? Should not the Great Council of Chiefs have been
consulted over major policy decisions before the government embarked
upon them? These issues were raised in the campaign. The SVT fielded
candidates in all the thirty-seven Fijian constituencies.

Soon after the defeat of the budget, the SVT attempted to forge a coali-
tion with other Fijian parties. It proposed not to contest seats already held
by the nationalists "if the favour was reciprocated" (Fiji Times, 6 Dec. 1993).

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 63

Butadroka did not respond. Similar negotiations with the All National Con-
gress also collapsed when the SVT refused to reconsider the Sunday prohi-
bitions and the idea of the fourth confederacy. The SVT then decided to
contest the elections alone on a platform that stated, among other things,
that cabinet members would be chosen on merit, not on provincial affilia-
tion; there would be a minister of national planning to coordinate develop-
mental activities; shipping to the outer islands would be improved; the
value-added tax would be reviewed; deregulation would be balanced against
the interests of local manufacturers; there would be more effective support
for law and order; efficiency in the public sector would be improved; and an
SVT government would give priority to the promotion of national unity.
Where the SVT's fortunes looked uncertain, such as in Rewa, Rabuka con-
tradicted himself by promising a seat in his cabinet (The Review, Mar. 1994).
Elsewhere, he hinted that the country could explode if his party was not
returned to power.

Rabuka reminded the Fijian electorate of his many pro- Fijian initiatives.
He admitted that he had still a lot to learn, and he asked for forgiveness. His
opponents had criticized his leadership, Rabuka said, but "no leader could
really be effective if from within the ranks of his or her team there were
people who were not prepared to show their loyalty to the team leader and
commitment to play their role as team members" (Rabuka 1993). Could
such people be trusted to safeguard the future of the Fijian people? He may
have erred, Rabuka said, but "what I have never been, and what I will never
do, is to be disloyal to the Fijian and Rotuman communities, and to give
away what I had personally sacrificed myself to achieve in 1987 — and that is
to secure and to safeguard the interests of the Fijian and Rotuman people."
He was astounded at the disloyalty of his colleagues who "almost handed
over power of effective control of the national Government of Fiji to the
other communities." Fijian people were at the crossroads, and the only
way forward for them was to remain united. Loyalty was a virtue that
Rabuka emphasized over and over again. "We must be unremitting in our
loyalty to each other, to our Chiefs, to this highest of all Fijian councils, the
Bose Levu Vakaturaga" (ibid.). And Rabuka, the uncompromising Fijian
nationalist, was the people's savior.

The SVT's chief rival for Fijian votes was the Fijian Association, the vehi-
cle of the dissident, anti-Rabuka Fijians, headed by Josefata Kamikamica
and quietly supported by Ratu Mara. The idea of reviving the old Fijian
Association as an alternative to Rabuka's SVT had been mooted as early as
January 1992, two years before this election, though nothing came of that
initiative (Daily Post, 17 Feb. 1992). The Associations founding principles
were a mixture of the precoup Alliance Party's platform and that o( the

64 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Mara-led interim administration (1988-1992) in which Kamikamica was a
key figure. The party would respect multiracialism but in the context of pro-
moting and safeguarding indigenous Fijian interests, it would seek reentry
into the Commonwealth, and, following World Bank initiatives, it would
pursue privatization and corporatization of profitable enterprises. In truth,
the Fijian Associations policies differed little from the SVT's.

On the campaign trail, the Association had only one issue: Rabuka was
an unworthy leader. Said Kamikamica: "The SVT leader, over the last 18
months, has followed a path full of broken promises, contradictory state-
ments, reversal of policy, and dishonourable behaviour. Fijian and national
unity cannot be achieved through cheap political point scoring just for the
sake of rallying together, or for any other selfish vested interest" (Fiji Times,
21 Jan. 1994). He pointed to Rabuka s involvement in the Stephens affair,
his close association with Butadroka's brand of nationalism, his administra-
tive inexperience. "Another five years of this style of leadership and it will be
very difficult for the country because the network of interests that feed upon
each other in a situation like that will be very difficult to break" (The Review,
Feb. 1994). It was thus in the national interest to stop Rabuka now. The
Fijian Association was not disobedient toward the Great Council of Chiefs,
as the SVT alleged. It pointed to a number of high chiefs among its party
leaders, including Ratu Apenisa Cakobau (son of the late Vunivalu of Bau),
Ratu Wili Maivalili of Cakaudrove, and Ratu Aca Silatolu from Rewa. More-
over, it attempted to promote itself as the true servant of the Great Council
of Chiefs. If elected to government, the party would work hard to reestab-
lish the chiefs' links to the British monarch. Rabuka appealed to another tra-
dition in Fijian society. "The sooner we realise we are out and out, the better
it will be for us rather than crying over spilt milk. We are a proud race. We
won't go crawling back to the British and the Commonwealth" (The Review,
Feb. 1994). In this stance, Rabuka echoed the sentiments of ordinary
Fijians.

The third Fijian party in the election was Sakiasi Butadroka's newly
renamed Fijian and Rotuman Nationalist United Front. Butadroka's for-
tunes had fallen on hard times. Once an Alliance Party assistant minister dis-
missed for his anti-Indian remarks — that Fiji's Indian population should be
repatriated to India — Butadroka had launched his Fijian Nationalist Party in
1975 and was elected to Parliament on his extremist platform on several
occasions. He had formed a coalition, the Fijian Nationalist United Front,
with Ratu Osea Gavidi's Soqosoqo ni Taukei ni Vanua (STV), but that coa-
lition collapsed weeks before the 1994 election and contested the elections
separately. Butadroka championed his causes in Parliament in his own
inimitable style. He opposed any review of the constitution until non-Fijians

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 65

unconditionally accepted the principle of Fijian political supremacy. Buta-
droka had been one of the founders of the Viti Levu Council of Chiefs, but
his reputation for integrity had been tarnished by the Stephens affair and
his base weakened by the desertion of his former coalition partner. Ratu
Osea Gavidi had fallen on hard times, too, his STV a pale shadow of its
1980s counterpart, the Western United Front. Gavidi s platform was identi-
cal to Butadrokas, except for the high frequency with which Gavidi invoked
Gods name. He was an advocate of western Fijian interests and cofounder
of the Viti Levu Council of Chiefs.

Apisai Tora's All National Congress, launched in 1992, was a Fijian-based
party with a multiracial philosophy. A onetime self-styled "Castro of the
Pacific" and coleader of the 1959 strike, Tora had been a strident Fijian
nationalist in the 1960s before entering Parliament on a National Fed-
eration Party ticket. A decade later, he joined the Alliance Party and served
as a minister under Mara. In 1987, he was one of the leaders of the Taukei
Movement, orchestrating Fijian support for the coup. Subsequently, he
joined Maras interim administration but was sacked when he founded the
All National Congress. Tora's political credibility became an issue for his
opponents.

A few key issues characterized the All National Congress platform. One
was its repeated view that the Great Council of Chiefs should not endorse
any one Fijian party, but should stay above the electoral fray. Unless the dis-
engagement was effected, said Tora, the traditional usefulness of the Great
Council of Chiefs would be destroyed: "Their reason for existence will be
questioned in an increasingly hostile manner. Their survival will for the first
time be a matter of serious conjecture. We foresee that their decline will
gather such momentum that they will be unlikely to survive as an institution
beyond the next ten years" (Fiji Times, 11 Jan. 1993). Tora was also a strong,
longtime advocate of greater restructuring of power within Fijian society to
give western Fijians more voice in national affairs. He made "no secret of his
desire to end the political dominance of eastern Fijians" (Islands Business,
Oct. 1991). He was one of the principal architects of the fourth confederacy
platform. Before the elections, Tora had explored cooperation with the SVT,
but the talks collapsed when the SVT refused to accept his demand, among
other things, for the recognition of the fourth confederacy. His multiracial
proclamations, coming from a founding member of the Taukei Movement,
did not ring true.

These divisions caused much anguish among ordinary Fijians. They were
puzzled. How could a constitution that entrenched their political supremacy
have produced so much division and bitterness among their leaders? they
asked. One answer was obvious. The removal of the threat of Indo-Fijian

66 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

dominance had opened up space to debate issues relating to the structure
and processes of power within Fijian society that had remained hidden from
the public arena. The absence of the once unifying leaders such as Ganilau,
Cakobau, and Mara encouraged democratic debate among Fijians. Rabuka
was no Mara. He lacked Mara's mana and knowledge of the mantras of
national politics. And he was a commoner.

Nonetheless, the extent and significance of the division and discordance
should be kept in perspective. In the end, although the Fijian parties may
have differed about the formula for the distribution of power and resources
among the taukei, they agreed that Fijians must always retain political
control. Kamikamica and Tora espoused multiracialism, but only on terms
acceptable to the taukei. They advocated (token) Indo-Fijian participation
in government; none wanted a full partnership.

The Fijians, however, were not the only ones who were politically
divided. There was internal friction among the category of General Electors,
which includes all non-Fijians and non-Indo-Fijians, though it was not as
publicly aired. The General Voters Party had done well as SVTs coalition
partner, securing two senior cabinet positions. However, its parliamentary
leader, David Pickering, a known Mara supporter and a Rabuka critic, had
refused to join Rabuka s cabinet in 1992. He was a vocal critic of Rabuka s
"inconsistent statements and indeterminate stance" (The Review, Aug.
1993). Not surprisingly, Pickering left the GVP to stand, and win, as an All
National Congress candidate in the 1994 elections, defeating his former
party by 893 votes to 554. The real cause of friction seems to have been the
extent of the party's support for Rabuka. Many General Electors were pro-
Fijian but not necessarily pro-Rabuka. A faction of the GVP wanted greater
independence, while the party leaders, whatever their personal misgiv-
ings about Rabuka s character and consistency, supported him. In the end,
despite internal differences, the GVP won four of the five General seats and
returned once again as the SVT's coalition partner.

Among Indo-Fijians, the divisions were deeper and more public, with
both the National Federation and the Fiji Labour parties running fierce
campaigns to claim the leadership of a drifting, disillusioned Indo-Fijian
community. The NFP was the older of the parties, formed in the early
1960s, and the main opposition party in Fiji since 1970. It had been in the
vanguard of the anticolonial struggle but had fallen on hard times under
Siddiq Koya, whose confrontational style disenchanted supporters. Under
Jai Ram Reddy's leadership since 1977, a semblance of party unity returned,
though still scarred by deep cultural and religious divisions. The Fiji Labour
Party, with democratic socialism as its founding creed, was launched in July
1985 to combat the World Bank-inspired economic policies of the Alliance

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 67

government. Led by Dr. Timoci Bavadra as president, Labour joined forces
with the NFP in 1987 to defeat the Alliance Party but was deposed by a mil-
itary coup a month later. Bavadra died from spinal cancer in November
1989 and was succeeded temporarily by his wife, Adi Kuini, who left the
party to contest the elections under the All National Congress banner. The
former coalition partners had drifted apart since 1987, the rupture coming
in 1992 when they fought the election separately. In that election, the NFP
had won fourteen seats and the Fiji Labour Party thirteen (Lai 1993). The
two parties parted company on a number of issues.

One was disagreement over participating in the 1992 elections. The NFP
decided to fight the elections under protest, arguing that boycotting it would
be futile. The Indo-Fijian community's future lay in dialogue and discus-
sion with Fijian leaders, and Parliament would provide the forum. Labour
favored boycott. How could it participate in an election under a constitution
that it had roundly condemned as racist, authoritarian, undemocratic, and
feudalistic? To do so would accord legitimacy to that flawed document and
undermine the party's credibility internationally. International pressure was
the only way to change the constitution. However, a few weeks before the
election, the party revoked its decision and took part in the elections.

Another issue was Labour's decision to support Sitiveni Rabuka in his bid
to become prime minister; the NFP had backed his rival, Josefata Kamika-
mica. Labour explained its action as a strategic move. When Rabuka, once in
power, disavowed the spirit of the agreement and disclaimed any urgency
to address issues Labour had raised, Labour's credibility in the Indo-Fijian
community was severely tested. To salvage its reputation, Labour walked
out of Parliament in June 1993 only to return in September, using the terms
of reference for the review of the constitution as a pretext. The NFP
exploited Labour's misfortunes. Chaudhary, it said, had committed the
"third coup" by supporting Rabuka in 1992, its agreement with him "neither
politically feasible nor legally enforceable" (Fiji Times, 15 Dec. 1993).
Labour had practiced "flip-flop" politics. Labour countered that the "prob-
lem with the NFP [is that] it never struggled in its lifetime and buckles
under pressure" (The Weekender, 4 Feb. 1994). For the NFP, the main issue
was credibility and integrity. It portrayed itself as a party following a steady
course on an even keel. Its trump card was its leader, Jai Ram Reddy A sea-
soned politician, Reddy had, especially since the last election, emerged as a
responsible, statesmanlike figure. A national poll gave him an astounding 80
percent approval. His moderate yet insistent stance on important issues and
his performance in Parliament worked to the party's advantage. Fijian lead-
ers, including Mara and Rabuka, spoke approvingly of him. But that, to his
opponents, was the real problem. Conciliation and compromise to what

68 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

end? they asked. Reddy's moderation they saw as weakness and timidity,
reminiscent of the acquiescent politics of the Indian Alliance. They sought
to discredit his political record by blaming him for the years of divisive and
factional infighting in the National Federation Party. For the NFP, Chau-
dhary epitomized "inconsistency, unreliability and unpredictability both in
substance and style."8

But personalities aside, there were some fundamental differences in
approach and political philosophy that remained submerged in the cam-
paign. One important difference between Reddy and Chaudhary lay in their
approaches to the pace of political change. Gradualism was Reddy's pre-
ferred course of action, the favorite words in his political vocabulary being
conciliation, consensus, dialogue, moderation. Expeditious change was
Chaudhary s path; sacrifice, struggle, boycott, and agitation the key words in
his lexicon. When asked how long Indo-Fijians might have to wait for politi-
cal equality, Reddy replied: "I don't think time is important in politics; it is
what you do." Indo-Fijians had suffered a great deal, but "life goes on
because of hope, that somehow, some day things will turn around and every-
body will realise that we are all God's children and we're all meant to live
and let live" (Islands Business, Jan. 1991). Reddy's philosophical, even fatal-
istic, approach acknowledges the limited options available to his people.

Chaudhary is an intrepid, indefatigable fighter who entered national pol-
itics through the trade union movement; he is the long-serving general
secretary of the Fiji Public Service Association. He is temperamentally dif-
ferent from Reddy. To him, power concedes nothing without a struggle and
time does count for a lot in politics and in the life of a community. Change
must come and, for Chaudhary, the sooner the better. "We have to do some-
thing about this [racial constitution]," he said, "because if we live under this
constitution for the next 5-10 years, then they [Indo-Fijians] will end up as
coolies" (Islands Business, Mar. 1994). The same urgency — recklessness in
the opinion of his detractors — informs his approach to the land issue. "I
don't believe in transferring the problems of our generation to the next gen-
eration," he said. "We should try and resolve this issue. If it is not possible to
have long term leases . . . then we better start talking about compensation.
And Indians will have to accept the reality that they must move away from
the land and find a livelihood elsewhere" (The Review, Aug. 1993). This mil-
itant Chaudhary is an anathema to his opponents, but, in an ironic way, he
appeals to the dominant radical tradition in Indo-Fijian politics that has long
been the province of the NFP.

The NFP seems to have accepted the realities of communal politics and
proposed to work within its framework. Said Jai Ram Reddy in Parliament in
July 1992:

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 69

Let us each be in our separate compartments if you like. Let com-
munal solidarity prevail and I do not begrudge Fijian leaders for
wanting to see that their community remains united. That is a very
natural desire. Let the General Electors be united. Let the Indians
be united; let everybody be united, but from our respective posi-
tions of unity let us accept that we must co-exist and work together
and work with each other. That is a more realistic approach. (Han-
sard, 24 July 1992)

Labours position differs. Today it is only a shadow of its 1987 form, denuded
of its multiracial base, its leading Fijian lights having deserted the party, but
Labour still seems to subscribe to the philosophy of multiracial politics, as
opposed to communally compartmentalized politics of the type entrenched
by the present constitution. To that end the party fielded General Elector
and Fijian candidates. It was a token gesture, and the Fiji Labour Party's
non-Indo-Fijian candidates polled miserably; but it still represented an act
of protest against the racial constitution, whereas the NFP contested only
Indo-Fijian seats.

In sum, the 1994 campaign was a curiously quiet, uneventful affair, with
the ethnic groups locked into racially segregated compartments, debating
issues of particular concern to their communities. There were few large
rallies and virtually no campaigning through the media. Most people seemed
disinterested and disenchanted. This parochial, tunneling vision that re-
warded ethnic chauvinism and communalism rather than multiracialism is
one of the more deleterious effects of the 1990 constitution.

Voting Figures and Future Trends

Polling occurred from 18 to 27 February. The SVT got 146,901 votes or 64
percent of Fijian votes, a decline of 7 percent from its 1992 figures. Its near-
est rival was the Fijian Association with 34,994 votes or 15 percent. The
Fijian Association won all three Lau seats and the two in Naitasiri. Buta-
drokas Nationalists polled poorly, too, capturing only 14,396 votes (6 per-
cent), compared with its 1992 share of 10 percent of all the Fijian votes. The
All National Congress, which had won 24,719 votes (10 percent) in 1992,
won only 18,259 (8 percent) of Fijian votes. Gavidis STV also recorded a
loss, from 9,308 (4 percent) votes to 6,417 (3 percent) in 1994. Labour,
which fielded just a few Fijian candidates, got only 555 Fijian votes in L994.
Independents did poorly, except the SVT-allied Ratu Jo Nacola from Ra,
who won his seat comfortably.

It is reasonably easy to explain why some Fijian parties did poorly. The

70 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Nationalists' agenda was appropriated by the SVT. Butadroka could claim
with some justice that his trademark pro-Fijian policies had been hijacked
by the party in power. Butadroka's running mate in the 1992 elections, Ratu
Mosese Tuisawau, stood as an independent. But Butadroka had also lost
ground and respect in his constituency with his antics in Parliament (he was
expelled for his virulent criticism of Mara's administration), his strident and
now curiously antiquarian anti-Indianism, and his involvement in the Ste-
phens affair. Gavidi's STV lost ground for similar reasons. His political integ-
rity was in tatters over the Stephens affair, and his pro-western Fijian
agenda was silently incorporated into the SVTs program. Tora's loss, and
especially his loss of ground since 1992, was a surprise. Tora's sudden con-
version to multiracialism was unconvincing, and the SVT fought hard to
regain its strength in the west.

The real surprise among Fijians was the poor showing of the Fijian Asso-
ciation, except in Naitasiri (because of Kuli's rapport with his grass-roots
supporters, the indifference of Tui Waimaro, Adi Pateresio Vonokula not-
withstanding) and Lau. Among those who succumbed to the Fijian Associa-
tion in Lau was the SVTs Filipe Bole. His support for Rabuka despite Ratu
Mara's well-known disregard for the man cost him his seat. Mara is the para-
mount chief of the region. As president, Mara maintained outward neutral-
ity, but as one Fijian observer put it, "Neither the acting chairman [Tevita
Loga, Mara's traditional herald] nor Finau Mara [eldest son and a Fijian
Association candidate], nor others would have dared move without prior
consultation with Mara in his capacity as paramount chief" (Islands Busi-
ness, Feb. 1994). Why did the Fijian Association fail in its birthplace, Tai-
levu? Traditional politics probably played a part. The SVT lineup included
Adi Samanunu Talakuli, the eldest daughter of the late Vunivalu of Bau
(Ratu Sir George Cakobau), and Ratu William Toganivalu. The Fijian Asso-
ciation's lineup of chiefs lacked stature and authority. Some Fijians also sug-
gest that Kamikamica was damaged by Mara's endorsement. They believe
that Mara harbors dynastic ambitions and will support Kamikamica, or any-
one else, only until his son, Finau, is ready to assume the leadership. Others
suggest that Tailevu is a traditionally conservative constituency, whose
people found it hard to vote against a party sponsored by the chiefs. The
SVTs allegation that Kamikamica had engaged in a "calculated act of politi-
cal sabotage" in his "continuing remorseless and unbending ambition for
political power in Fiji" (The Weekender, 2 Feb. 1994) seems to have stuck.

All this says little about the SVTs strengths, which were considerable. It
fielded better or at least better-known candidates and, as the party in gov-
ernment, used the politics of patronage to its great advantage. The support
of the Methodist Church in the rural areas proved crucial. But without

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 71

doubt, the SVTs trump card was Sitiveni Rabuka, who was returned by his
electorate with one of the highest votes among Fijian constituencies. Many
ordinary Fijians responded to him as one of their own, a man who had sacri-
ficed much to promote their interests. They forgave him his lapses of judg-
ment and inconsistencies. They saw him as a man who had suffered from
disloyalty, bad advice from colleagues, and intrigue from powerful forces
outside government. Rabuka asked for a second chance, and the electorate
responded.

Among Indo-Fijians, the total number of registered voters was 159,480.
The NFP won twenty of the twenty-seven Indo-Fijian seats and captured
65,220 votes or 55.5 percent. The Fiji Labour Party got 51,252 votes or 43.6
percent. In the 1992 elections, the NFP had captured 50 percent of the
votes to Labours 48 percent. The NFP made a clean sweep of all the Vanua
Levu seats and the urban seats. It also made gains in the sugar belt of west-
ern Viti Levu, to some extent because of the mill strike in September 1993
by the Sugar and General Workers Union, which angered farmers. Other
farmers turned to the NFP because they were suspicious of a compulsory
insurance scheme proposed by the Labour-allied National Farmers Union.
However, Labour managed to retain its core support there. Part of Labours
problem was of its own making, but the NFP increased its support on the
strength of its own performance, especially that of its leader. Many Indo-
Fijians responded to his quiet tenacity.

The election returned both the NFP and the SVT with stronger man-
dates. The Indo-Fijians have not renounced Chaudharys style of agitational
politics; thev have merely suspended it for the time being in favor of Reddy s
more accommodationist approach. In that sense, Reddy's mandate is condi-
tional; if his approach fails to produce timely results, the Indo-Fijians will
return to Labour. A similar dilemma confronts Rabuka. The SVT leader told
his campaign audiences that he will never compromise on his goals to realize
the aims of the coup. At the same time, he promised to promote national
unity through the politics of inclusion. How he reconciles these two goals
will test his mettle as a leader. And his task is all the greater, for people in his
own party will use every opportunity to depose him. Rabuka may have taken
his revenge, but will he have the last laugh?

Facing the Future: The Fijian Dilemma

Besides his own political survival, Rabuka will have to address urgent issues.
Among these are the land issue and the review of the constitution. The Agri-
cultural Landlord and Tenants Act will have to be renegotiated soon, under
conditions more confused than ever before. Some Fijians want to link the

72 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

renewal of leases with Indo-Fijian acceptance of the principle of Fijian
political dominance. Some landowners want sharecropping to become an
integral part of any future lease arrangement. Western Fijian landowners
want to dilute the power of the Native Lands Trust Board to enable them to
negotiate directly with tenants. There are others completely opposed to
renewal of leases. And, at the other end of the spectrum, twelve thousand
Indo-Fijian tenants understandably want to escape the tyranny of short-
term leases. If leases are renewed, on what basis will rents be assessed? If
not, will the tenants be resettled or receive compensation for the improve-
ments they have made? Similarly, difficult questions haunt the constitutional
review. Will the Great Council of Chiefs give up the inordinate power they
enjoy under the present constitution? Will the Indo-Fijian people accept the
principle of Fijian political paramountcy? Will the racially segregated voting
structure be maintained or dismantled in favor of some form of multiracial
electorate?

The underlying goal of the Rabuka government is the promotion of Fijian
interests. The task was once seen as simple: the removal of the fear of Indo-
Fijian dominance. That threat no longer exists: Indo-Fijians (343,168) now
constitute 45.3 percent of the population, while Fijians (377,234) make up
49.7 percent.9 With emigration and a lower birth rate in the Indo-Fijian
population, Fijians will continue to represent a greater percentage of the
population. Ratu William Toganivalu, a longtime Alliance Party politician
who died on the eve of the elections, said: "We, the indigenous people of
this country, should not be tempted into the notion that by suppressing the
Indian people, it would enhance our lot. If you do that, we are all sup-
pressed" (Hansard, 30 June 1992). The threat to Fijian (chiefly) power
comes not so much from the activities of non-Fijians as from the "disinte-
grating effects of the breakdown of Fijian communal structures in the coun-
tryside, the decay of the villages, and the radicalisation of the urban
unemployed" (Macnaught 1977:16).

Such comments used to be dismissed as the uninformed and insensitive
ravings of unsympathetic outsiders. But in fact, Fijian leaders and intellectu-
als themselves are now airing doubts about the efficacy of traditional institu-
tions and practices in the modern arena. Here is a small selection:

Sitiveni Rabuka: I believe that the dominance of customary chiefs
in government is coming to an end and that the role of merit chiefs
will eventually overcome those of traditional chiefs: the replace-
ment of traditional aristocracy with meritocracy. (Fiji Times, 29
Aug. 1991)

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 73

Ropate Qalo: [Traditional authority] is a farce, because Fijians want
the new God, not the old traditional Dakuwaqa or Degei. The new
God is money and the new chapel is the World Bank. Like all the
rest of the world, traditional authority has to go or be marginalised.
{Islands Business, Jan. 1991)

Asescla Ravuvu: The new political system emphasises equal oppor-
tunities and individual rights, which diminish the status and author-
ity of chiefs. Equal opportunities in education and equal treatment
under the law have further diminished the privileges which chiefs
enjoyed under colonial rule and traditional life before. ... Al-
though village chiefs are still the focus of many ceremonial func-
tions and communal village activities, their roles and positions are
increasingly of a ritualistic nature. (Ravuvu 1988:171)

]alc Moala: [The Fijian people] are now facing so many issues that
challenge the very fabric of traditional and customary life. Things
they thought were sacred have become political topics, publicly
debated, scrutinised and ridiculed. The Fijians are threatened and
this time the threat is coming from within their own communities
where the politics of numbers are changing loyalties and alliances.
For the first time in modern history, the Fijian community is in
danger of fragmentation; democracy is taking its toll. The chiefs are
losing their mana and politicians enjoy increasing control. (Fiji
Times, 21 Mar. 1992)

Simione Durutalo: If the average Fijian worker doesn't see the bus
fare coming down and his son has graduated from USP and doesn't
have a job, he's not going to be very amused. No matter how much
you talk about tradition and the GCC [Great Council of Chiefs],
you can't eat them. {The Review, Dec. 1993)

The economic policies of the Rabuka government, with its unwavering
commitment to a World Bank-inspired belief in the efficacy of market
forces, will only compound the problems. The SVT's manifesto aims to en-
courage greater economic freedom and competition and to allow world mar-
ket forces to determine prices and production for export and local markets
through an efficient and productive private-enterprise sector. Under an SVT
government, "incentives to expand energy and take risks in pursuit ol busi-
ness success will be introduced to support Fiji's able and energetic business-

74 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

men to produce results." Furthermore, such a government would "direct
incentives to focus attention on the pursuit of international competitiveness
and international markets which require deregulation so that businessmen
respond to world prices." To that end, "a more rapid movement from subsis-
tence activities to commercial enterprises and paid employment will be
encouraged."10 These policies, if successful, will undermine further the struc-
ture and ethos of Fijian village life, which is already beginning to disintegrate.
For some the way out of these dilemmas is to return Fijians to their
"semi-feudal, semi-self-sufficing society" (Macnaught 1977:24). Ravuvu sug-
gests rejecting democracy in favor of some form of traditional authoritarian-
ism, because "the best decisions come from entrusting the responsibility to
make them to a few well-meaning and knowledgeable people" (Ravuvu
1991 :x). After all, democracy is a foreign flower unsuited to the Fijian soil.
But foreign or not, democracy is there to stay. What is required is a massive
rethinking about the kind of development that is appropriate, that will not
come at the expense of culture and tradition. In addition, Fijian leaders
need to promulgate policies that seek "to advance those who have missed
out somewhere down the line of history but [not] to deprive those who have
succeeded of the fruits of their success" (Einfeld 1994). This delicate act of
balancing rights and obligations provides Rabuka with his greatest challenge
as well as his greatest opportunity.

NOTES

The fieldwork for this article was supported by the Division of Pacific and Asian History
in the Research School of Pacific Studies at the Australian National University. For their
comments and criticisms, I am indebted to Donald Denoon, Stephen Henningham,
Padma Lai, Stephanie Lawson, Jacqueline Leckie, and Mary Varghese.

1. The opposition to Fiji's readmission is led by India, which insists that a constitution
acceptable to all communities in Fiji should be in place before the question of admission
can be entertained.

2. These lands, which were either unoccupied at the time of Cession in 1874 or whose
landowning clan, the mataqali, had become extinct, were state property administered by
the Department of Lands.

3. The statistics are revealing: two Indo-Fijians on the nine-member Fiji Posts and Tele-
communications Board, one of six on the board of the Housing Authority, two of seven on
the Fiji Electricity Authority Board, one of eight on the Fiji Development Bank, one of
seven on Rewa Rice, one of seven on the National Training Council, five of ten on Air
Pacific, two of ten on the Fiji Trade and Investment Board, one of ten on Pacific Fishing
Company, and one of nine on the board of the Civil Aviation Authority of Fiji. None of
these boards was headed by an Indo-Fijian. Figures provided to me courtesy of Sayyid
Khayum, who raised the whole issue in Parliament on 24 November 1993.

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 75

4. This quote is from a file of unpublished constitutional review papers in my possession.

5. From Labour campaign literature in my possession.

6. Paul Manueli remarked that removing licensing of milk powder, rice, and tinned fish
was "a continuation of the deregulation policy instituted by the interim government and
the leader of the Fijian Association Party [Kamikamica] was the architect of that."
Manueli "was at a loss to understand his criticism" (The Review, Mar. 1994).

7. From a copy of the letter in my possession.

8. All this is based on my close observation of the election campaign.

9. These are 1992 figures supplied by the Fiji Bureau of Statistics.

10. These quotes are from the SVT manifesto, a copy of which is in my possession.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(."hand, Ganesh, et al.

1993 The Woes of Structural Adjustment Policies: The Fiji Government Budget.
Research Report Series, no. 3. Suva: Fiji Institute of Applied Studies.

Crocombe, Ron, et al.

1992 Culture and Democracy in the South Pacific. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies.

Daily Post

var. Daily. Suva.

Durutalo, Simione

1986 The Paramountcy of Fijian Interest and the Politicisation of Ethnicity. Working
Paper, no. 6. Suva: South Pacific Forum.

Einfeld, Marcus

1994 The New World Order: The Human Dimension. Keynote address to the
National Federation Party Annual Convention, Suva, 26 June.

Fiji Times

var. Daily Suva.

Fiji Today

var. Suva: Ministry of Information.

Government of Fiji

var. Parliamentary Papers.

Hansard

1993 Verbatim report of the Fiji House of Representatives debates.

76 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

International Alert

1993 Report of a Consultation on the National Agenda. Suva: University of the South
Pacific.

Islands Business

var. Monthly. Suva.

Kermode, Sir Ronald

1993 Report of the Commission of Inquiry into the Deed of Settlement dated 1 7.09.92
between Anthony Frederick Stephens and the Attorney General of Fiji. Suva:
Government Parliamentary Paper No. 45 of 1993.

Lai, Brij V.

1983 The Fiji General Elections of 1982: The Tidal Wave That Never Came. Journal
of Pacific History 18:134-157.
r 1988 Before the Storm: An Analysis of the Fiji General Election of 1987. Pacific
Studies 12 (1): 71-96.

1991 Politics and Society in Post-Coup Fiji. Cultural Survival Quarterly 15:71-76.
1992a Broken Waves: A History of the Fiji Islands in the Twentieth Century. Pacific

Islands Monograph, no. 11. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press.

1992b Rhetoric and Reality: The Dilemmas of Contemporary Fijian Politics. In Cul-
ture and Democracy in the South Pacific, 97-116. See Crocombe et al. 1992.

1993 Chiefs and Indians: Elections and Politics in Contemporary Fiji. The Contem-
porary Pacific 5 (2): 275-301.

Lawson, Stephanie E.

1992 Constitutional Change in Fiji: The Apparatus of Justification. In Ethnic and
Racial Studies 15 (1): 61-83.

1993a Ethnic Politics and the State in Fiji. Peace Research Centre Working Paper, no.
135. Canberra: Australian National University.
* 1993b The Politics of Tradition: Problems of Political Legitimacy and Democracy in
the South Pacific. Pacific Studies 16 (2): 1-30.

Leckie, Jacqueline

1991 Whose Country Is It Anyway? Legitimacy, Trade Unions, and Politics in Post-
coup Fiji. Paper presented to the Pacific Islands Political Studies Association,
Monash University, Melbourne, 16-18 December.

1992 State Coercion and Public Sector Unionism in Fiji. New Zealand Journal of
Industrial Relations 16:61-83.

Macnaught, Timothy

i 1977 "We Seem No Longer To Be Fijians": Some Perceptions of Social Change in
Fijian History. Pacific Studies 1(1): 15-24.

Madraiwiwi, Ratu Joni

1993 Culture and Values. International Alert, no. 26.

Manueli, Paul

1993 Budget 1994. Suva: Government Printer.

Rabuka's Republic: The Fiji Elections of 1994 77

Nandan, Satendra

1993 Return to a Certain Darkness. Meanjin 52 (4): 613-622.

Nayacakalou, Rusiate

1975 Leadership in Fiji. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

Pacific Islands Monthly
var. Monthly. Suva.

Pacific Report

var. Fortnightly. Canberra.

Rabuka, Sitiveni

1993 Statement to the Bose Levu Vakaturaga. Typescript, 47 pages. In my possession.

Ravuvu, Asesela

1988 Development or Dependence: The Pattern of Change in a Fijian Village. Suva:
Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific.

1991 The Facade of Democracy: Fijian Struggles for Political Control, 1830-1987.
Suva: Reader Publishing House.

Reddy, Jai Ram

1993a Address to the National Federation Party Convention 1993. Typescript in my

possession.
1993b Reply to the Budget. Copy of typescript in my possession.

Soqosoqo ni Vakavulewa ni Taukei

1992 Manifesto.

The Review

var. Monthly. Suva.

The Weekender

var. Weekly. Suva.

THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT AND THE SOUTH PACIFIC
DURING "COHABITATION," 1986-1988

Isabelle Cordonnier

Institute for Political Studies

Paris

A French scholar deals with French policy in the South Pacific during 1986 to
1988, critical not only for French politics in general as the years of the first
"cohabitation," but also for the French policy in the South Pacific. There were
clearly two separate policies led by different actors: the president and prime
minister on one side, and the secretary of state for South Pacific problems on
the other. The president and the government were mainly concerned with New
Caledonia and relations with Australia and New Zealand, including settlement
of the Rainbow Warrior affair. The secretary of state for South Pacific prob-
lems was a Polynesian politician, who traveled widely in the region and was
instrumental in establishing better relations with the island states of the
Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. A comparison is made with the recent cohabita-
tion period (1993-1995), and the fundamental difference between the two
periods is underlined. This article contributes to the study of France in the
South Pacific and to the understanding of the complexities of France as an
actor in South Pacific international relations.

COHABITATION: THE WORD was coined in the mid-eighties in France to
define the simultaneous presence at the head of the government of a presi-
dent and a prime minister from different and opposing political parties.
Cohabitation was present for two years after the legislative elections in
March 1986 that gave the parliamentary majority to the conservative parties.
Meanwhile President Francois Mitterrand, who had been elected for a
seven-year term in 1981, remained in power. The president named Jacques
Chirac, leader of the most prominent conservative party, the Rassemble-
ment pour la Republique (RPR; Assembly for the Republic) as prime min-

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

80 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

ister. There was a great potential for them to clash because the 1958 consti-
tution gave each of them substantial but largely ambiguous powers in the
management of state affairs.1

The main areas of potential dispute related to defense and external poli-
cies. These matters have always been considered to belong to the "reserved
area" of the presidents responsibilities. But Prime Minister Chirac did not
intend to renounce any part of his potential power, because defense and
external affairs relate in part to domestic conditions.2 He was adamant in
putting forward his point of view in any international forum. He could rely
on Minister of Foreign Affairs Jean-Bernard Raimond and Minister of
Defense Andre Giraud, who clearly stood by him from the beginning of the
cohabitation period.3 The fact that the minister of foreign affairs stood fifth
in the order of protocolary importance in the government shows in itself the
willingness of both the president and the prime minister to handle external
policy themselves.4

The period of cohabitation was a very active one with respect to French
policy in the South Pacific. This policy involved external and defense affairs,
because of France s nuclear testing program in French Polynesia, and inter-
nal affairs because of the existence of the three French overseas territories
(TOM: New Caledonia, French Polynesia, and Wallis-and-Futuna). The
external and defense affairs were deemed to be within the scope of the pres-
ident s responsibilities, the internal affairs within that of the prime minis-
ter's. Problems emerged because of the lack of coordination and the per-
sonal hostility between the president, on one side, and the prime minister
and his government on the other. The profile of French policy in the South
Pacific increased when the prime minister created the post of secretary of
state for South Pacific problems (secretariat d'etat charge des problemes du
Pacifique sud), which was held by a skilled Polynesian politician, Gaston
Flosse. This post could have operated mainly as a coordinating mechanism
for policy in the region, but it became an active element in shaping French
policy. During the two-year cohabitation period, between the legislative
elections in March 1986 and the presidential election in May 1988, French
policy in the South Pacific had three main dimensions: policy in the TOM,
particularly in New Caledonia; the difficult bilateral relations with Australia
and New Zealand as well as with the island states of the Solomon Islands
and Vanuatu; and the activities of the secretary of state for South Pacific
problems. An analysis of cohabitation from 1986 to 1988 with respect to the
South Pacific seems especially timely because a new period of cohabitation
began in March 1993 with the coming to power of the Balladur government.

In the process of examining tensions over South Pacific policy between
the president and the prime minister during the 1986-1988 cohabitation

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 81

period, this article seeks to illuminate the nonmonolithic character of
French policy making with respect to the South Pacific and the complex
interplay of influences and pressures from different political and bureau-
cratic actors. Although the different actors' divergent views on the course to
follow about South Pacific issues may be considered the main cause of
errors in French policy in this region, there has yet been no academic litera-
ture devoted to this specific topic. It seems all the more necessary to bring a
French point of view to a field whose analysis has been dominated by Aus-
tralian and American authors.5

This discussion is mainly based on government and official publications,
parliamentary proceedings, and discussions with officials and advisers who
were active in the policy of these years and who wish to remain anonymous.
The aim is to examine the official debates on French policy in the South
Pacific during cohabitation from 1986 to 1988 and to illuminate the rela-
tions between the different actors in the shaping of this policy.

The New Caledonian Question

New Caledonia had been a contentious issue in French politics for several
years before cohabitation. The Kanaks' determination to attain indepen-
dence had led to violent conflicts in the mid-eighties. Tensions increased
during the cohabitation period of 1986 to 1988 because of the Chirac gov-
ernment's attitude toward New Caledonian affairs.

The RPR's position on New Caledonia was to stress its being part of
France: French sovereignty in this territory was not to be questioned. Dur-
ing a January 1982 debate in the National Assembly concerning New Cale-
donia, Mr. Toubon, a prominent RPR deputy, declared, "This would mean
to vote in pitch darkness, a vote that we cannot but oppose . . . because you
didn't stress, Mr. Secretary of State, your determination to keep New Cale-
donia within the French Republic, which is, for us, a fundamental issue."6
Four years later, this attitude had not changed. The RPR had strongly
opposed the so-called Fabius Statute (from the name of Socialist Laurent
Fabius, then prime minister), which was passed in 1985 and was to govern
relations between the French and the territorial government in New Cale-
donia. Its promoters and detractors considered it a step toward inde-
pendence-in-association, a compromise formula favored by some French
Socialist politicians in 1984-1985. In July 1986, the Chirac government
passed legislation calling for a local referendum on the territory's political
status.7 The proposed electoral body would be limited to citizens who had
resided in the territory for at least three years.8

Three issues were of particular importance in the legislation: (1) the

82 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

replacement of the Land Office (created in 1982) with the ADRAF (Agence
pour le developpement rural et l'amenagement fonder; Rural Development
and Land Planning Agency); (2) the granting of economic aid (development
funds, compensation, and damage money) to the victims of the 1984-1985
riots and fiscal deductions for investments in the territory; and (3) the adap-
tation of the Fabius Statute, in order to reduce the powers of the regional
councils and to increase those of the Territorial Council (Congress).

This law showed how eager the government was to stop what it consid-
ered an evolution toward independence for New Caledonia. It also revealed
its commitment as a whole in this action, since the law was signed by six
ministers (besides the president and the prime minister). Two additional
laws concerning the elections in New Caledonia were passed in June and
July 1987. The general atmosphere in the territory was tense. As an observer
put it, "Deaf to criticism, listening only to Jacques Lafleur s and his RPCR
friends' opinions,9 the minister for overseas territories and the high commis-
sioner, Mr. Jean Montpezat, were busy depriving the independentists of the
very few powers left to the regions."10

In 1987 the Chirac government was mainly preoccupied with the prepa-
ration of the referendum. Rut as early as 30 January, the Convention of the
FLNKS (Front de liberation nationale pour une Kanaky socialiste; National
Kanak Socialist Liberation Front) called for an unconditional boycott of
the referendum, which was planned for late 1987. Tensions in New Cale-
donia between independentists and loyalists, the latter supported by the
police and the French army, increased during the months leading up to the
referendum.

French military presence in the territory only increased from 5,303 to
6,425 men between April 1986 and October 1987. u Rut the presence also
became more obvious. The French government initiated a "nomadization"
program under which troops were temporarily stationed in tribes' territory,
where they took part in agricultural or building works and also played a
social and medical role. This role was not accepted by the Kanaks. This
"nomadization" was considered a military operation against the tribes.12 If it
reassured the Europeans in the bush (the broussards), it was strongly
opposed by the FLNKS militants.13

The referendum took place on 13 September 1987. Fifty-nine percent of
the electorate voted, and the result was 98.3 percent in favor of keeping
New Caledonia within the Republic. Rut as Melanesians had widely boy-
cotted the vote, the outcome cannot be considered the expression of the
majority of the whole New Caledonian electorate. It could not possibly be
taken at face value and so was a major setback for its promoters.

One of the last episodes of the cohabitation period was the adoption of

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 83

the Pons Statute (from the name of the minister for overseas departments
and territories at the time).14 It was signed by twelve ministers and under-
secretaries and thus could be considered the legacy of the soon-to-be-
dismissed Chirac government. The new statute had two main character-
istics. First, it kept the four self-governing regions (East, West, South, and
Islands) that were governed by regional councils whose union formed the
Territorial Council. The high commissioner (the state representative in the
territory) was still assisted by a ten-member executive council. The Assem-
ble coutumiere and the Institute for Promoting the Kanak Culture were
maintained. Second, it was to be the most comprehensive statute New Cale-
donia ever had. Functions, attributions, and competences of each of the
territory's institutions were carefully described. The objective was undoubt-
edly to prevent any later conflict over competences.

The government legislative effort in New Caledonia was the Chirac gov-
ernment's own effort. It was not supported or approved by the president.
Francois Mitterrand remained silent on the issue, and his silence was inter-
preted as complete disapproval. He may have wished to use New Caledonia
as a card in the conflict of ambitions that developed between himself and
the prime minister with regard to the 1988 election: Mitterrand wanted to
be the first president of the Fifth Republic to be reelected, whereas Prime
Minister Chirac wanted to be elected president (he was a candidate for the
second time) and was thus a rival to Mitterrand in all areas.

Mitterrand thus let the situation deteriorate and kept aloof in order to
avoid any responsibility for it. He nevertheless sometimes voiced his dis-
agreement with the government's policy in New Caledonia. For example, in
the Ministers' Council of 18 February 1987, he was reported as saying, "To
reduce the debate to a mere electoral opposition would be a dangerous his-
torical error. I mean less the referendum than the policy that led to it."15

In December 1986, New Caledonia was reinscribed on the United
Nations list of non-self-governing territories that should be decolonized.16
This act had no immediate consequence for French policy in the South
Pacific but revealed the sympathy for the independentists' cause in the
South Pacific and elsewhere. The motion on New Caledonia was introduced
by the members of the South Pacific Forum in December 1986 after it had
become obvious that French policy under the recently elected conservative
party would not evolve in the direction they had hoped.

The arguments developed by the representatives of the South Pacific
countries summarized reproaches and claims that had been leveled at
France for twenty years. However, they were expressed for the first time in a
global forum. It was claimed that a state had a right to oversee what was
going on in a neighboring state; Mr. Abisinito, Papua New Guinea represen-

84 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

tative, said, "The universal declaration of human rights clearly acknowledges
that human rights of everybody are not only a matter of inner policy for sov-
ereign states, but are of common concern for the whole of humankind."17
Also mentioned was the regional duty of states that have to bear the conse-
quences of the political destabilization of a neighboring territory, as the
Western Samoa representative explained: "Our considerations were first
determined by the fact that the French governments decisions as regards
New Caledonia will not only affect the territory residents, but also all of us
who are living in the South Pacific."18

The charge of arrogance leveled at France was not new. The PNG repre-
sentative claimed, "The administrative power showed that it was ready nei-
ther to cooperate with the U.N. decolonization committee nor to fulfill its
obligations. It must then be condemned not only for arrogance and hypoc-
risy, but also for ridiculing the terms of the U.N. charter as well as their
relevant resolutions."19 The reproach of incoherence in the French ap-
proach to the New Caledonian issue was the newest charge. It was both a
criticism for having amalgamated the right to vote to elect a government and
the right to vote in a referendum to determine the desired level of self-
government, which is an inalienable right in any colony, and a criticism for
having organized a so-called referendum on self-determination when Paris
kept saying that New Caledonia was part of France.

The New Caledonia question took a dramatic turn in the very last weeks
of cohabitation. The Ouvea affair started just before the presidential elec-
tion in 1988 with the killing of four gendarmes and the abduction of twenty-
four others by Kanak rebels and their subsequent detention in a cave on
Ouvea island (Loyalty Islands). They were released after a military assault
on the cave in which nineteen Kanaks were killed, several of them under yet
unexplained circumstances. There was strong evidence that some were
killed after surrendering.20

This event reveals a great deal about the complexity of the cohabitation
between Mitterrand and Chirac and about the depth of their disagreement.

The first bone of contention was the decision to organize the provincial
elections on the very day of the presidential election. Bernard Pons has
clearly stated that he yielded to RPCR pressure.21 The president, or at least
his closest advisers, was aware of the risks. On 20 April, the Committee on
the Future of New Caledonia sent a delegation to the Elysee. Guy Lene-
ouanic, Gabriel Marc, Alain Ruellan, and Michel Tubiana had an interview
with Jean-Louis Bianco, the secretary general of the presidency. They
explicitly voiced their anxieties about a possible outburst of violence in the
territory around the date of the provincial and presidential elections, which
were set for 24 April.22 The conservative political parties were not unani-

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 85

inous in supporting the governments decision: as early as February, Jean-
Pierre Soisson, in charge of overseas territories and departments for
the UDF (Union pour la democratic francaise; Union for the French
Democracy, a center-right political party led by former president Giscard
d'Estaing), expressed his fears about having the elections coincide.23

The second element of deep disagreement between the president and
the1 government relates to the actual freeing of the hostages. This was a com-
plex military operation organized both in Paris and in Noumea and was all
the more difficult because of time and space discrepancies: the two cities
are twenty thousand kilometers and eleven hours apart. The internal rival-
ries of the military did not make it any easier for the ones in charge of nego-
tiating with the rebels. The decision to assault the cave was made in Paris
amid a climate of intense electoral competition between the president and
his prime minister. The electoral competition had two effects. First, there is
strong evidence that both men had their own channels of information on
what actually happened on the spot,24 but that they did not share the infor-
mation. Second, there is also strong evidence that negotiations could have
continued were both men not in a hurry to influence the electors by giving
proof of their ability to command a military operation to restore law and
order on a small island at the far end of the world. It is noteworthy that the
negotiations to release three Frenchmen kept hostage in Lebanon for three
years succeeded during this same electoral fortnight and that the prime
ministers collaborators were to be credited for this political success. At the
same time, the principal failure in the handling of the Ouvea crisis resided
in the resorting to force rather than pursuing peaceful negotiations. Such an
offhand approach exemplifies a general French attitude toward South
Pacific problems and the difficulty of coordinating the approach of the poli-
ticians from the capital with local situations.25

Disastrous Bilateral Relations

The internal difficulties in New Caledonia reinforced the dissension between
France and neighboring states in the South Pacific. Two issues — decoloniza-
tion in New Caledonia and the Rainbow Warrior bombing — particularly
exacerbated relations with Australia and New Zealand, respectively, but they
also contributed to a negative image of France among the Pacific Islands
nations. Continuation of French nuclear testing was another source oi
strong disagreement between France and South Pacific nations.

Australia was worried at the potential destabilization of its immediate envi-
ronment (Noumea is just a two-and-a-half-hour flight from Sydney). Libya's
interference in New Caledonian affairs increased its preoccupations. In May

86 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

1987, Australia closed the Peoples Office (the Libyan embassy in Canberra)
and expelled the head of the office. On a strict bilateral level, the relations
between French Prime Minister Jacques Chirac and the Australian govern-
ment were at a record low. The Chirac era tended to reinforce the negative
stereotypes of France in the region; it helped reinforce claims that the
French presence was regionally destabilizing. According to Bill Hayden, the
Australian foreign affairs minister, "Real problems started when Mr. Chiracs
government gained power. I think some tensions are generated inside this
government that must face day-to-day problems because its parliamentary
majority is tight and precarious in the coalition. This creates uncertainty."26

Relations with France deteriorated so much that on 19 December 1986
the French government took the decision to stop all official visits between
Australia and France for an undetermined period. This was due, it said, to
the unfriendly attitude of the Australian government during the preceeding
months toward French policy in the South Pacific in general and in New
Caledonia in particular. The Australian consul general in Noumea was asked
to leave the territory; it was claimed that he had interfered in local affairs.
On 5 January 1987, France suspended official visits at the ministerial level
between the two countries for an undetermined period. This decision was
taken at a time when at least three visits were planned for the following Feb-
ruary: visits by Secretary of State for South Pacific Problems Flosse, Agricul-
ture Minister Guillaume, and External Trade Minister Noir.27

The two sides vied with one another in terms of nasty comments directed
at the other. For example, Bill Hayden was reported saying that "France was
very active with what one might call fiscal diplomacy" (among Pacific Islands
states).28 On a visit to New Caledonia in August 1986, Mr. Chirac described
Prime Minister Bob Hawke of Australia as "very stupid" for warning that
there could be renewed violence in New Caledonia if the issue of self-deter-
mination was not carefully handled.29

Mr. Chiracs clumsiness in his relations to the South Pacific countries was
also considered damaging for the whole Western alliance: "Mr Chirac be-
lieves there is an Anglo-Saxon conspiracy to get the French to quit the
Pacific: that the dirty digger is speaking not merely for the Australians and
the New Zealanders, but also for Britain and the USA. In this belief he is
only partly paranoiac. He is partly dead right. There is no conspiracy, but the
Americans and the British join the Aussies and Kiwis in thinking that France
is hindering their efforts to keep the Pacific states reasonably friendly to the
West."30 This quotation reflects a difference in appreciation of the interna-
tional impact of the New Caledonia crisis. France clearly underestimated
the impact, whereas Australia and New Zealand viewed French policy as a
major risk in the context of the cold war and fear of Soviet infiltration in the
area.

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 87

The animosity of the French government toward Australia was not
shared by all its members. Mr. Giraud, the minister of defense, would not
take part in it. He retained the presidency of the French committee for the
preparation of the Australian bicentenary, to which he was appointed before
entering the government. He represented France at the bicentenary cere-
monies in February 1988. His visit helped restore senior official visits.31

France's relations with New Zealand were also overshadowed by the risk
of regional destabilization as perceived by New Zealand. But New Zealand
didn't wish to chase France out of the region. On the contrary, it strongly
advocated dialogue with France. At the time New Zealand was mostly pre-
occupied with the settlement of the Rainbow Warrior affair.32 This affair
provides a most interesting case study of the French presence in the South
Pacific, revealing many of its flaws and inadequacies.

The settlement of the Rainbow Warrior affair became the task of a gov-
ernment that had not been responsible for it, because the bombing took
place under the last socialist government before the conservatives came to
power. It was an example of the continuity of state policy (continuity de
I'Etat) in this region in everything relating to the defense policy of France.
The Rainbow Warrior question was one of the first issues dealt with by the
ministers of defense and foreign affairs after they took office in March 1986.
There were in fact three distinct cases: (1) compensation owed by the
French Republic to the family of the photographer Fernando Pereira, who
was killed in the explosion; it was decided that US$800,000 would be appro-
priate, and the sum was accepted by the family in November 1985; (2) com-
pensation to Greenpeace for the destruction of its flagship; and (3) the case
of the two French officers who were arrested and jailed in New Zealand in
July 1985.33

The third case was the most difficult since David Lange, the New Zea-
land prime minister, firmly opposed the release of the officers, and the
French ministers made it an absolute condition to the settlement of the
whole affair. The prime minister of the Netherlands was then president of
the European Council. He took the initiative to call for the mediation of the
U.N. secretary-general. The settlement was thus speeded up, and an agree-
ment took the form of an exchange of letters dated 11 July 1986.34 The
agreement included three essential points: (1) apologies from the French
government to the New Zealand government and damage money of US$7
million; (2) the release of the French officers involved in the bombing who
had been held prisoner in New Zealand since July 1985, under the condition
that they would be posted for at least three years in Hao, an atoll in French
Polynesia; and (3) commercial concessions by France during the negotia-
tions between the European Economic Community and New Zealand on
the importation of New Zealand butter.

88 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

In France this agreement was welcomed with relief. It nevertheless
raised several questions. Why should France give apologies and compensa-
tion money? Why had officers to pay for having accomplished their duty?
Why had France to concede New Zealand some advantages in commercial
negotiations involving the European Economic Community? It also showed
the weakness of France s policy in the region, since its embassies were not
involved in the negotiations.35

Mitterrand did not take part in the settlement of this affair.36 He was kept
informed by the prime minister of the evolution of the negotiations. The
Rainbow Warrior affair remains a very sensitive element in the history of
the socialist government of Mr. Fabius, since it revealed many dysfunction-
ings of the state machinery that could not be analyzed and remedied. Mys-
tery still surrounds the origins of this operation by French Intelligence, and
there are strong doubts on whether it will be cleared up. Whatever his share
of responsibility in the affair, in New Zealand's perspective, Mitterrand
appeared more trustworthy than Chirac. Minister of Foreign Affairs Mar-
shall welcomed his reelection with relief: "The French vote brings new ex-
pectations for the beginning of new relations [between our two countries]."37

Relations between the Paris government and the island country gov-
ernments were extremely strained during the cohabitation years. These rela-
tions illustrate the split image of France with regard to self-determination in
the region, since several of the island states entertained excellent relations
with the secretary of state for South Pacific problems (see below).

France s relations were most strained with the Melanesian governments,
because they held the greatest sympathy for the Kanaks as fellow Melane-
sians. But the Melanesian governments did not go so far as to break off all
relations with France. In October 1987 Vanuatu expelled the French ambas-
sador and the head of the cooperation mission. The Solomon Islands always
refused the credentials of the French ambassador (residing in Port-Vila),
but it never turned down any development aid from France. None of the
South Pacific Forum members would have accepted a breaking of their rela-
tions with France. Thus the hostility toward France was in part a way of
"lobbying" it to influence a settlement of New Caledonian affairs in a less
conservative way.

On the French side, there was a large misunderstanding on the part of
the government — with the exception of the secretary of state for South
Pacific problems — toward the island states. These states were considered to
be of negligible importance to both the president and the prime minister
compared to other foreign policy issues: disarmament, East- West relations,
Middle East terrorism, the hostages in Lebanon. The government would
not permit tiny, remote islands in a faraway ocean to impinge on its policy in

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 89

New Caledonia, which was a card in the game it played against the presi-
dent. The government was anxious to achieve there what its socialist prede-
cessors could not do: to bring peace back to the territory and to lay the basis
for a durable settlement of the crisis.

The major flaw of the governments approach was not to listen to those
who knew the South Pacific reality. The government cut itself off from the
experience of the secretary of state for South Pacific problems, who was
hardly regarded as a member of the government. There was little coordina-
tion between his activities and the government s diplomacy — or lack of dip-
lomatic skill — in the South Pacific. For example, Gaston Flosse was very
active in trying to improve the image of France in the region at the very time
(1987) when the government was most repressive in New Caledonia.

The Secretary of State for South Pacific Problems

The post of secretary of state for South Pacific problems (SSSPP) could be
set up in March 1986 because the Council for the South Pacific had been
established a few weeks before the change of the majority in the National
Assembly.38 Prime Minister Chirac and Secretary of State for South Pacific
Problems Gaston Flosse expected that the latter could hold the secretariat
of the council, which had been created by Mr. Mitterrand. Flosse would
have favored the continuity of the council if he could have been his own
master, with Regis Debray (the original secretary of the Council for the
South Pacific, who kept this position throughout the cohabitation period)
having no decision-making power.39 Nothing of the kind happened. The
SSSPP was hampered both by the place of the post in the government and
by other circumstances.

The SSSPP was under the formal authority of the minister for overseas
departments and territories. Even before his official designation, the mem-
bers of Gaston Flosse s staff perceived the limits of such a situation. They
made the prime minister sign a statement of mission (lettre de mission). This
statements intentions were broader than the nomination decree. It clarified
Flosse s mission within the government and stated that he "should be closely
associated with France s policy toward the island and coastal states of the
region. This association could mean participating in negotiations related to
fisheries, air traffic, or broadcasting rights in the South Pacific."40

The statement of mission also authorized the SSSPP to establish any rela-
tions he thought necessary to fulfill his task with the states of the region. He
could also mobilize all the French forces in favor of the development of the
territories and cooperation with the neighboring states. Flosse thus became
a kind of junior foreign secretary for South Pacific affairs, with an extraordi-

90 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

nary liberty of movement. The discrepancy between the original idea of the
SSSPP as an assistant to Mr. Pons and the understanding of his mission as
interpreted by Flosse himself was thus obvious from the first weeks of the
government. In addition, the shifting balance of power between the presi-
dent and the prime minister reinforced the ambiguity of the SSSPP.

The governments policy in New Caledonia was to stress French sover-
eignty in the territory. Neither the president nor the SSSPP approved this
policy. But the deterioration of relations between Francois Mitterrand and
Jacques Chirac did not help to bring the president and the SSSPP closer.
Mitterrand considered Flosse as part of Jacques Chirac's government and
not as an independent minister. The twofold split between Flosse and Pons,
between Mitterrrand and Chirac, each being opposed on New Caledonian
affairs, led to a slumbering of the Council for the South Pacific, which had
been created by the preceding socialist government in order to bring concil-
iation between the different French political entities acting in the South
Pacific. This council remained inactive but was never dissolved. It met for
only the second time in May 1990.

The SSSPP was based in both Paris and Papeete (Tahiti). The logistics
were particularly difficult to manage, as were relations with other ministries.
The fact that the SSSPP was dependent on the Ministry for Overseas De-
partments and Territories was fatal. The SSSPP budget was included in the
ministry's, although in practice it was to act outside the ministry's area of
competence. This was difficult to accept for civil servants used to the rigidity
of public finance accountability. The Quai d'Orsay (the French Foreign
Affairs Ministry) considered the SSSPP a rival ministry but this did not have
any consequences in fact.

Relations between the minister of defense in Paris and Tahiti-based
Admiral Thireault were far from cloudless. Admiral Thireault was com-
mander-in-chief of all French forces in the Pacific (known as ALPACI). He
was also COMSUP/Polynesie, that is, responsible for the forces based
in Polynesia. He was also COMCEP and as such at the head of the nuclear
test program in Mururoa.41 This laid huge responsibilities on his shoulders.
Admiral Thireault fully supported Gaston Flosse when his minister, Andre
Giraud, was rather reluctant to assist the secretary of state and could not
understand Admiral Thireault s support.

Moreover, the ALPACI's role was not assessed in the same way in Paris
and in Papeete. Admiral Thireault thought it part of his role to accompany
Flosse in his visits to South Pacific and Pacific Rim countries and to provide
him with the support of the French military forces. He thought that if he
made himself more conspicuous in the region, he would dissolve the mys-
tery surrounding the nuclear test program and would become more familiar

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 91

to the officials and leaders of the regional states. This approach was not
shared at all by the minister of defense, who wanted to maintain a secretive-
ness about the French defense system in the region.42

The difficulty for the secretary of state for South Pacific problems to find
a place in the French administrative architecture was not eased by Flosses
complex personality. A "demi," that is, half-Polynesian, half- Europe an, he
was fifty-five when appointed. He had been taking part in the politics of
Polynesia for almost thirty years. He had been elected mayor of Pirae
(a town in the suburbs of Papeete) since 1965. He had also been chairman
of the Territorial Assembly from 1973 until 1984. He then became president
of the territorial government. He was elected representative for French
Polynesia at the National Assembly in 1978 and 1981 as a member of his
own Polynesian party, the Tahoeraa Huiraatira (Peoples Meeting), which
was associated with the RPR. Furthermore, he was elected in 1984 as a
French deputy to the European Parliament. In the 1980s he tried to pro-
mote a peaceful settlement of the New Caledonia conflict. He "seized any
opportunity to convince his interlocutors of the efficiency of the govern-
ment's policy in New Caledonia."43 This effort immediately set him at odds
with his minister.

Flosse was rarely present in Paris. He was trying to juggle the responsi-
bilities of two important positions: secretary of state and president of the
territorial government. He dropped the presidency of the French Polyne-
sian government only in February 1987. He also traveled extensively in the
South Pacific. His team of collaborators was based in Papeete. This explains
why several issues, particularly matters at the border of foreign affairs and
national defense, were dealt with in Paris without his opinion being asked.
His being left out of decisions reveals that the coordination of French policy
in the South Pacific was not yet considered a necessity.

The settlement of the Rainbow Warrior affair was dealt with between
Paris and Wellington, with no involvement of the SSSPP. The reorganization
of the military command in the South Pacific was also managed exclusively
by the Ministry of Defense. This is not surprising when one understands the
administration of a large country, but it shows the limits of Flosse s impor-
tance in the French government.

The reorganization originated in a decision taken by Andre Giraud in
April 1986. He wanted to dissociate as much as possible the functioning of
the nuclear testing program from the stationing of French military forces in
Polynesia and the South Pacific. This reorganization was organized step by
step and was completed in July 1988. It resulted in a reduction of 750 mili-
tary men between 1986 and 1989. In August 1987 the territorial government
and the French state signed a toll convention that was to take effect in July

92 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

1989. The Ministry of Defense would pay a yearly sum of CFPF 100 million
(French Pacific francs) for the imports of the nuclear center instead of pay-
ing toll rights varying with the actual imports.

Flosse "caused strong irritation in the Foreign Office in Paris insofar as
he encroached on their 'reserved area.' "44 The jealousy of the Quai d'Orsay
with regard to its diplomatic prerogatives is well known. This observation
was reinforced during these years of strained relations with the South
Pacific states.

Flosse s position in the government was also hampered by his difficulties
in managing Polynesia. In October 1986 two Polynesians, Emile Vernaudon
(mayor of Mahina) and Quito Braun-Ortega, both leaders of the Amuita-
hiraa Mo Porinesia (Party for the Union of French Polynesia, the principal
opponent to the local government led by Flosse), came to Paris. They met
with Bernard Pons, Jacques Focart, the prime ministers special adviser for
African and overseas affairs, and Andre Giraud. They wanted to lodge an
official charge against Flosse. They stressed "his grip on Polynesia, his affair-
ism, interference, and corruption, and his misuse of his powers."45 The
changes were not entirely new to the two ministers and Mr. Focart. But they
could do nothing since no judiciary inquiry had been launched. They were
also bound by the prime ministers full support for Flosse. A few months
earlier, during a stopover in Papeete, the prime minister had declared:
"Gaston Flosse is more than a minister, more than a governments president.
He is a brother."46 It was obvious that Flosse had been given a free hand in
the handling of local affairs.

It required several months of local protest before Flosse resigned from
his post of president of the Polynesian territorial government, which he did
in February 1987. His successor, Jacques Teuira, was his close collaborator.
He too had to resign after violent riots erupted in Papeete in October 1987,
which led to an unprecedented devastation of the downtown area. Finally,
Alexandre Leontieff, the leader of the defectors from Flosses Tahoeraa
Party, was elected president of the government in December, two days after
Teuiras resignation.

Despite the hostile environment in the French administration, the secre-
tary of state for South Pacific problems contributed to changing Frances
image in the South Pacific. Flosse was very active in the diplomatic field.
He traveled widely: between Paris and Papeete, in the South Pacific, and in
the Pacific Rim countries (the United States, Japan, Singapore). He was a
skillful orator, able to speak Tahitian and to address Polynesian audiences
without an interpreter.47 This was a considerable asset in his diplomatic
tours in the region. He developed his regional policy along several lines.48

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 93

The first was to accept dialogue with the South Pacific states, which in-
\ ol\ ed information on the Mururoa tests, cooperation with Frances Western
partners in the region (the United States, Great Britain, Japan), and a per-
manent dialogue with the island states that he frequently visited. Then there
was the granting of aid to the South Pacific states and territories. He set up
an aid fund (familiarly called the Flosse Fund), which amounted to several
million French francs in 1986, and 59 million francs in 1987. The SSSPP
could also give some US$10 million as aid money from the Ministry of
Finance. Flosse increased Frances contribution to the South Pacific Com-
mission and made France a member of the Pacific Islands Development
Program. The third policy line was to emphasize the French presence in the
South Pacific in developing two arguments: that the French territories con-
tributed to the development of the region and that the French presence
contributed to regional stability.

Gaston Flosse particularly succceeded with respect to Fiji. Fiji was iso-
lated in the Pacific area at large after Colonel Rabukas coups d'etat in May
and September 1987. The purpose of these coups was to restore to the
Melanesians political power that they allegedly lost after the April general
elections gave a legislative majority to a coalition of two Indian-dominated
parties. The South Pacific Forum and Commonwealth countries were criti-
cal that this was undemocratic and contrary to the Pacific way of living and
of resolving conflicts in a consensual way. Australia and New Zealand cut
several aid programs to Fiji; they were later greatly irritated to see them-
selves supplanted by France.

Flosse visited Fiji in August 1987. He was accompanied by Admiral
Thireault. He met Colonel Rabuka, President Sir Peter Ganilau, and Prime
Minister Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara. He decorated a Fijian soldier from the
FINUL (International United Nations Force in Lebanon) with the Legion
of Honor and visited the University of the South Pacific and the CCOP/
SOPAC (coordinating committee for mineral prospecting in coastal areas
of the South Pacific). The least one can say is that his visit did not go un-
noticed. Flosse convinced the French prime minister to define a new policy
toward Fiji. An interministerial council was devoted to this issue on 22 Octo-
ber 1987. The sum of F80 million was allocated to Fiji, and SSSPP experts
were sent to decide how they would be used.

The Chirac government gave new impetus to the idea of a yearly coordi-
nating meeting of the high military and civil servants acting in the South
Pacific. The idea was first voiced by the president in September 1985. The
SSSPP organized three meetings, in 1986, 1987, and 1988. These meetings
were routine, and nothing came out of them, except the habit of meeting.

94 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

This was important, though, for the framework was ready for Mr. Rocard,
Chiracs successor, when he decided in 1988-1989 to increase the coordina-
tion of French politics in the region.

The SSSPP also oversaw the project of a French University of the South
Pacific, created by a decree in May 1987. But its implementation was not
easy, as two concepts were opposed: the SSSPP and the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs favored a university opened toward the region, whereas the Ministry
of Research and Technology and the three territories wanted a more typi-
cally French university.49 This difference lay in the definition of the sylla-
buses, in the choice of the professors, and in the academic links with other
universities. The scientific council of the university could not meet before
the 1988 presidential elections, and it was up to Rocard s government to
organize its implementation.

Flosse and his team had a clear conception of what French policy in the
South Pacific could be. They were the first to try to implement a regional
strategy in the Pacific as a whole to make of France a true regional power,
accepted as such by its regional partners. This was too ambitious a policy,
raising only fears and defiance in Paris because it implied too many changes
from the habit of ignorance toward South Pacific affairs.

Few comments are available on Mitterrand's attitude to Flosse. The pres-
ident never spoke about the SSSPP in public. According to a senior Elysee
official, the president kept as low a profile on South Pacific affairs as possi-
ble in order not to be considered as condoning the policy in New Caledonia.
The president was much more preoccupied with New Caledonia than with
Flosse s policy toward the island countries.

Was Flosse a puppet minister? His scope of action was limited in his
apparent area of competence because of the involvement of the prime min-
ister and the minister for overseas departments and territories in New Cale-
donia. He enjoyed, however, much greater freedom of action everywhere
else in the South Pacific. He was like a proconsul of the nineteenth century,
at which time whole areas of the policy in the South Seas were outside the
close control of the government in Paris. He innovated greatly, attracted
much criticism, and made some errors (for example, in allowing corruption
to develop on a new scale in Tahiti during his term of office).50 He nonethe-
less broke the shackles in which French policy in the South Pacific had been
confined since the creation of the Mururoa nuclear testing center.

Cohabitation, 1993 Version

The second cohabitation period, which lasted from March 1993 until May
1995, under the Balladur government, has not yet led to the same errors and

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 95

passionate debates about the policies and activities of France in the South
Pacific. It was unlikely that it will, for both international and national reasons.

The global context has changed greatly since 1986-1988. In particular,
East-West relations are fundamentally different. The cold war is over and,
with it, the global competition between the two superpowers to gain allies in
any part of the world. The emergence of several new independent countries
in what was formerly the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe has increased
the demand for development aid. The small South Pacific island countries
have lost much of their strategic value. Former modest interest in them by
the great powers has been replaced by general indifference as many coun-
tries are requesting the Western countries' attention and diplomatic skill.
The Bosnian crisis arose and worsened during 1992. It has been on the top
of Western, and especially European, leaders' priorities for more than a year
now. What weight do small and remote islands carry against the possibility of
a general war in Europe?

The French national context was also very different in 1993-1995 from
that in the late 1980s. The politicians were not the same, nor were their
main preoccupations. The nuclear test issue has also taken a new turn in the
last two years with the moratorium on nuclear tests agreed on in 1992 by the
United States, France, and Russia.

The best one can say of the relations between Mitterrand and Chirac is
that they were not excellent. Chirac accepted the prime ministership in
1986 without renouncing his presidential ambitions for 1988. He was thus
more a rival for Mitterrand than an ally and a supporter as prime ministers
are supposed to be. In contrast, the relations between Mitterrand and Balla-
dur are quite serene. Balladur, who was minister for the economy and
finance in Chirac's government, had been unofficially considered the next
prime minister for many weeks before the general elections in March 1993.
Of a temperate character, he was not deemed to pretend to the presidential
mandate in 1995, although some of his ministers have advocated his candi-
dacy. He is bent on conciliation and dialogue, and has shown it in his han-
dling of domestic affairs in his first months in office. He is not in
competition with Mitterrand, nor could he be in 1995, since Mitterrand will
not be a candidate for the third time because of his age (he will be eighty in
1996). Moreover, Balladur's main concern is to revive economic growth and
to prevent unemployment from rising.

There is no secretary of state for the South Pacific in Balladur's govern-
ment. But the president has made it clear that he will personally see to it
that the policy undertaken in 1988 in New Caledonia will continue during
the second cohabitation.51 This policy was initiated by Rocard and his team
of close collaborators in their first weeks of office, in May and June 198S. It

96 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

is not possible for any government now to ignore what was done in the
Rocard era.

Rocard became prime minister in May 1988, in the aftermath of the
Ouvea tragedy, and he immediately gave a new impetus to French policy in
the South Pacific. The major innovation was to postpone for ten years, until
1998, the ultimate decision concerning the future of New Caledonia. The
Matignon Agreements, so-called from the name of the official residence of
the prime minister, where they were signed in June 1988, initiated a recon-
ciliation process between the loyalists under Deputy Jacques Lafleurs
banner and the independentists, led by Jean-Marie Tjibaou. A referendum
is to be organized in 1998 in New Caledonia to decide on whether it stays in
the French Republic. The electoral body for the 1998 referendum will be
limited to the electors voting in 1988 and their descendants. This framework
of action was approved by a nationwide referendum in November 1988.

A flow of investments and experts from the metropole to Noumea
ensued under the Rocard government, and the trend was maintained by his
two socialist successors as prime minister, Edith Cresson and Pierre Berego-
voy. The objective was to help the Melanesian population share in the mod-
ern economy of the territory. A program of training young Melanesians for
jobs in the secondary and tertiary sectors (industry and services) was
launched in 1988 and 1989. Two succcessive high commissioners were per-
sonally involved in the implementation of this program.

Rocard not only maintained the yearly meeting of high-ranking military
and civil servants acting in the South Pacific, but also increased its responsi-
bilities in defining the framework of French policy in the region. More
people were involved in these meetings, and their participation was aimed at
reiterating Frances commitment to its regional status. Rocard also set up a
Permanent Secretariat for the South Pacific, which supports the Council for
the South Pacific and coordinates the governments action in the region.

Balladur has as yet shown little inclination to modify these arrangements.
The bodies set up by Rocard provide a convenient framework for the follow-
up of the Matignon process. There is no need today to pull apart a whole
process that is, if not fully accepted, at least tolerated by all parties.
Although much criticized, it has, however, helped to bring peace to the
minds of both loyalists and independentists. South Pacific affairs are no
longer a priority or a sore point among the governments concerns. In the
near future, the main uncertainty with regard to the French presence in the
region concerns the nuclear tests.

Nuclear tests were suspended for a year in April 1992. France also
agreed then to sign the Nuclear Proliferation Treaty, which it had always
refused to do. A year later, the moratorium was prolonged, initially until July

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 97

1993 and then indefinitely. In July 1993, the president set up an inquiry
commission on the moratoriums impact on the French nuclear weapons
program. According to leaks from the report of the commission that was
handed to the president on 4 October 1993,52 supplementary tests may be
necessary to modernize several existing weapon systems as well as to vali-
date a surrogate laboratory testing system. France could refrain from testing
until at least mid- 1995, but would have to resume after that time in order to
maintain a viable nuclear deterrent.53

A large controversy arose in France following the Chinese nuclear test on
5 October 1993. This explosion interrupted the moratorium observed by the
five nuclear powers for a year, even though China s was only a de facto mora-
torium. Politicians in France were divided on this issue.54 In general, conser-
vatives supported the resuming of tests, whereas socialists were in favor of
the moratorium.55 The controversy lingers on. On 5 May 1994, the president
strongly reaffirmed his commitment to the moratorium, which he considers
an important step toward global nuclear disarmament and a major element
in the international struggle against nuclear proliferation.56 The prime min-
ister did not wait long before stating that he did not exclude the possibility
of resuming testing.57

However, uncertainty about the future of French Polynesia, which is
heavily dependent on money spent by the state, remains. French sover-
eignty in the territory could come under question. The debate will focus on
whether it is in France's interests to keep an expensive territorial possession
in the region. If the answer is yes, France will be faced with the difficult task
of implementing or maintaining development policies it has postponed
for thirty years. If the answer is no, it will be equally difficult to achieve a
peaceful transition to independence. The debate on Frances responsibilities
toward the population of the territory may be intense.

Now, at least, it seems that the link between the French presence in
French Polynesia and in New Caledonia is no firmer than before. The main
argument waged by opponents to the granting of independence to New
Caledonia has long been the fear of the chain independences it might
trigger among French TOMs. New Caledonia's future is likely to be decided
through the Matignon Accord process. There is a widely shared silence
on this issue among French officials, except for the minister for overseas
departments and territories.

Conclusion

The cohabitation years of 1986-1988 reveal clearly that the French govern-
ment is by no means a monolithic actor in the South Pacific. This finding is

98 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

not unique to the South Pacific, but it has not previously been appreciated
with relation to that region. During the period in question, tensions were
inevitable between the different actors in the making of French policy in the
region. They were due to overlapping responsibilities as well as to the actors'
own somewhat diverging political aims, both at a national level and in their
dealings with New Caledonia.

These years are also a benchmark in the history of French presence in
the South Pacific. From 1988 onward, French policy has been strongly
dependent on individual involvement at the highest level of state responsi-
bility.58 The Rocard era is clear evidence of this policy. The prime minister s
strong commitment to reestablish law and order in New Caledonia and the
personal dedication of the two high commissioners he designated for the
territory made it possible to create a climate of confidence beween the Paris
government and politicians in Noumea.

French Polynesia became a somewhat less thorny issue, until the morato-
rium on nuclear tests brought it back to the fore. The minister for over-
seas departments and territories had thus to step in and initiate a long-term
policy for the territory.

On a more general level, the second cohabitation indicates that cohabita-
tion is not necessarily a recipe for conflict between a prime minister and a
president, not even in the South Pacific. It depends on the personalities
involved and their ambitions as well as on the global context. Cohabitation
was a recipe for conflict in 1986-1988 with respect to the South Pacific
because of rival personalities in the two posts and because of a fundamental
conflict in the approach of the two main parties to the New Caledonian
issue. The 1993 cohabitation is quite different in this respect: the conflict on
South Pacific issues has abated, and the Matignon Accord process has the
broad endorsement of both major parties. There has been no open conflict
between the president and the prime minister. On the contrary, Balladur has
benefited from the lessons of the first cohabitation and is not at all keen on
repeating the major error of that time, that is, to be in permanent and open
conflict with the president. The global context has changed too: the major
preoccupation is no more a potential destabilization by the Soviet Union but
world economic depression.

NOTES

The author wishes to thank S. Henningham for his invaluable help in rendering this arti-
cle according to American standards of publication.

1. The constitution of the Fifth Republic provides that the president is the guarantor of
national independence, territorial integrity, and the application of Community agree-

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 99

ments and treaties (art. 5); the prime minister leads the action of the government, is
responsible for national defense, and is in charge of the administration of the law (art. 21).
The government determines and applies the policy of the nation (art. 20).

2. Samy Cohen, "La politique etrangere entre l'Elysee et Matignon," Politique
ttrangere 3 (1989): 489.

3. Ibid.

4. Jean-Bernard Raimond, Le Quai d'Orsay a I'epreuve de la cohabitation (Paris: Flam-
marion, 1989), 25.

5. This is why the author does not refer much to existing writings by S. Henningham,
S. Bates, R. Aldrich, J. Connell, or J. Chesneaux, which are well known and easily avail-
able to anyone interested in the wider topic of French presence in the South Pacific.

6. Journal officiel. Debuts a I'Assemblee nationale, 3d seance, 14 Jan. 1982, 129. This
was the first debate at the National Assembly on New Caledonian affairs and provided
socialists and conservatives the opportunity to air their respective positions.

7. Law 86-844, 17 July 1986.

8. Curiously enough, this restriction was already present in the Fabius Statute and had
at the time raised the anger of the conservative opposition. We should note that the
French Constitution stresses the unity of the French electorate and makes it difficult to
restrict it. The preamble of the constitution of the Fifth Republic reads as follows: "The
national sovereignty belongs to the people, which exercises it through its representatives
or by means of a referendum. No section of the people nor any individual can boast of its
exercise."

9. J. Lafleur is the leader of the conservative RPCR (Rally for Caledonia in the Re-
public) and is a staunch advocate of maintaining French rule over New Caledonia.

10. In A. Rollat, Tjibaou le Kanak (Lyon: La Manufacture, 1990), 206

11. Source: Ministry of Defense.

12. A. Raluy, La Nouvelle-Caledonie (Paris: Karthala, 1990), 204-205.

13. Ibid.

14. Law 83-82, 22 Jan. 1988.

15. Le Monde, 19 Feb. 1987.

16. This was a setback for French diplomacy, since France has always objected to the
interference of the United Nations in its policy toward its colonies and overseas territories
(as some colonies were renamed after they received a new legal status in L958 with the
advent of the Fifth Republic).

100 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

17. Document UNO A 41/PV 92 (2 Dec. 1986), 21.

18. Ibid., 30.

19. Document UNO/1/C.4./42/S.R. 17 (21 Oct. 1987), 1011.

20. See French daily newspapers in May and June, 1988. The results of the military
inquiries were never made public.

21. InRollat, Tjibaoule Kanak, 221.

22. Le Monde, 22 Apr. 1988.

23. Le Monde, 25 Feb. 1988.

24. See P. Legorjus, La morale et I'action (Paris: Fixot, 1990), 245. Legorjus was the head
of the GIGN (the group in the French gendarmerie specializing in freeing hostages).

25. I. Cordonnier, "La France dans le Pacifique sud, 1962-1988" (Ph.D. diss., Paris,
1991), 199.

26. Interview, Le Monde, 23 Apr. 1988.

27. Le Monde, 7 Jan. 1987.

28. International Herald Tribune, 26 Nov. 1987.

29. International Herald Tribune, 6 Apr. 1987.

30. "Tactless Tricolor," The Economist, 6 Sept. 1987.

31. Le Monde, 5 Mar. 1988.

32. On 10 July 1985, French secret service (DGSE) agents had bombed the Greenpeace
flagship in Auckland harbor in order to prevent its imminent departure on a voyage to
Mururoa to protest nuclear tests. An unprecedented crisis in French political circles fol-
lowed the government's initial denial of involvement. It took several months of public and
journalistic inquiry before the government acknowledged its responsibility in the bomb-
ing. There have been a large number of publications in both French and English on this
topic. In particular refer to M. King, Death of the Rainbow Warrior (Auckland: Penguin,
1986); R. Shears and I. Gidley, The Rainbow Warrior Affair (London: Unwin, 1987);
C. Lecomte, Coulez le Rainbow Warrior (Paris: Messidor Editions Sociales, 1989).

33. J. Charpentier, L 'Affaire du Rainbow Warrior: Le reglement interetatique (Paris:
Annuaire Francais de Droit International, 1986), 873.

34. Decree 85-833, 11 July 1986.

35. The South Pacific states judged that France made out pretty well, essentially by using

The French and the South Pacific, 1986-1988 101

its leverage on European Community imports, which were essential to New Zealand. It
was also wondered why international terrorists were being released.

36. Raimond, Le Quai d'Orsay, 67.

37. Le Monde, 1 1 May 1988.

38. The South Pacific ( louncil was created in December 1985, by a national decree (85-
1410, 30 Dec. 1985). The Rainbow Warrior affair and the following political crisis led pol-
iticians in Paris to realize the danger of the lack of coordination of the French policy in
the South Pacific. The South Pacific Council was to be responsible for this coordination.

39. Interview, 20 Nov. 1989.

40. Prime Minister, letter L73/SG, 23 Apr. 1986.

41. ALPACI means amiral pour le Pacifique (admiral for the Pacific); COMSUP/
Polynesie means commandant superieur des forces de Polynesie (commander-in-chief of
the French forces in Polynesia); COMCEP means commandant du Centre d'experimen-
tation du pacifique (commander of the nuclear test center in the Pacific).

42. Private conversations with officers.

43. Answer to a parliamentary question, National Assembly, 15 June 1987.

44. P. De Deckker, "Au sujet de la perception de la France dans le pacifique insulaire:
Pour une contribution a 1'histoire des temps mal conjugues," Revue Frangaise d'Histoire
de VOutre Men 76 (284-285): 558.

45. Le Monde, 25 Oct. 1986.

46. Ibid.

47. S. Henningham, "France and the South Pacific in the 1980s: An Australian Perspec-
tive," Journ al de la Societe des Oceanistes 92-93:33.

48. For France, in the Pacific (SSSPP document, Sept. 1987), 45-58.

49. Private conversations with university scholars.

50. S. Henningham, France and the South Pacific: A Contemporary History (Sydney:
Allen & Umvin, 1992), 153.

51. President Mitterrand, in Le Monde, 6 Feb. 1993.

52. L'Express, 7 Oct. 1993, 52-53.

53. Arms Control Today, Nov. 1993, 20.

102 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

54. See French daily newspapers in October 1993.

55. Pierre Lellouche, Jacques Chiracs diplomatic adviser, voiced particularly strong
support for the nuclear tests (see Le Figaro, 12 and 13 Oct. 1993).

56. Le Monde, 7 May 1994.

57. Le Monde, 11 May 1994.

58. For the years 1988-1991, see I. Cordonnier, "La France dans le Pacifique sud:
Perspectives pour les annees 1990," Politique Etrangere 3 (1993): 733-746.

BOOK REVIEW FORUM

Annette B. Weiner, Inalienable Possessions: The Paradox of Keeping-While-
Giving. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992. Pp. ix, 232,
appendixes, notes, bibliography, index, illustrations. US$35 cloth.

Review: Maria Lepowsky
University of Wisconsin, Madison

Exchange, Gender, and Inalienable Possessions

During the pre -World War II years, it was fairly common, even with
the emphasis on ethnographic particularism, for anthropologists to devote
their intellectual energies to generating grand syntheses and overarching
theories of social relations. Since then, despite the proliferation of anthro-
pologists, there have been proportionally far fewer synthetic works. Most
anthropologists, reacting to criticisms of earlier ethnologists, afraid that crit-
ical comment will damage their own careers, and mindful of the exigencies
of satisfying grant and manuscript reviewers, dissertation supervisors, and
tenure committees, have retreated to the safer havens of narrow topics,
narrow areas, and ethnographic analyses of limited sectors of social life.

Annette Weiner s ambitious, challenging, impressively argued book re-
turns to an earlier tradition of broad ethnological analysis and theory build-
ing. But this is theory envisioned through intimate knowledge of one place,
the Trobriand Islands, over a twenty-year period — plus a shorter period of
field research in Western Samoa — and closely grounded in the reinterpreta-
tion of cross-cultural ethnographic data.

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

103

104 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Weiner calls her book an anthropological experiment. She asks us to do
no less than rethink the received wisdom of Malinowski and Mauss that the
principle of reciprocity underlies exchange, and social life more generally.
Instead, Weiner focuses on what she calls the paradox of keeping-while-
giving and on the inalienable possessions that are hoarded, conserved,
and inherited, to a greater or lesser degrees in all societies, while other ob-
jects, often symbolic replacements of these heirlooms and sacred relics, are
offered in exchange.

Emphasizing the accumulation of wealth rather than its distribution,
Weiner also stresses the building rather than the leveling of inequality
through exchange. "The motivation for reciprocity is centered not in the gift
per se," she argues, "but in the authority vested in keeping inalienable pos-
sessions. . . . [T]he authentication of difference rather than the balance of
equivalence [is] the fundamental feature of exchange" (p. 40). Control of
inalienable possessions generates and sustains rank and hierarchy. Individ-
uals and groups exchange to try to snare what is hoarded and withheld,
tokens of power and difference frequently imbued with what Weiner calls
the "cosmological authentication" of gods or ancestors, and try to build or
alter political hierarchy by capturing the "inalienable" possessions of others.

This is a stimulating and innovative position for rethinking exchange and
inequality. It is worth bearing in mind during this rethinking, though, that
the freshness of Malinowski s and Mauss s writings on exchange in the 1920s
came from their contrast to European "commonsense" cultural assumptions
that the accumulation of wealth — land, crown jewels, gold coins, shares of
stock — and its conservation through inheritance, primogeniture, and entail-
ment are the natural and logical avenues to power. Weiner s contribution, by
emphasizing keeping, without omitting giving, is a valuable corrective for
anthropologists who have allowed the brilliant theorizing on gift exchange
and reciprocity of our forebears to obscure the need to think more creatively
about the role of wealth conservation in the building of social relations and
social difference.

As a teacher in an American university, I am reminded yearly of how
counterintuitive the Maussian/Malinowskian views of exchange are to West-
erners when I begin to explain to a new cohort of puzzled and objecting
undergraduates what was explained to me by islanders in southeastern New
Guinea: that publicly giving away shell necklaces, greenstone axeblades, and
large pigs enriches the givers by putting others into their debt. The original
paradox of giving that European observers such as Boas, Malinowski, and
Mauss confronted was that you can get rich and powerful by giving things
away.

Book Review Forum i 05

Engendering Wealth and Exchange

Weiner argues that anthropologists should be careful about uncritically
accepting theories based on flawed ethnography, particularly ethnographic
reports that have ignored the activities of women as producers of wealth and
reproducers both of persons and of social relations, as she says theories of
exchange have generally done. Weiner especially emphasizes the production

and the exchange and conservation — often but not always by women of

fibrous wealth, which she glosses as cloth: banana-leaf skirts and bundles,
flax cloaks, barkcloth, feather cloaks and insignias, and so on. These are fre-
quently imbued with sacred power and symbolize group identity and
authority She cautions further that there is a Western cultural bias in assum-
ing that female roles as reproducers are negatively valued, domestic, or pro-
fane compared to male productions and forms of wealth.

This key aspect of Weiner's work is part of a larger scholarly trend in the
anthropology of gender of the last decade and a half to question received
categories, such as nature/culture, sacred/profane, public/domestic, and
their associations with male and female. Contemporary anthropological
gender studies reanalyze the actions of both women and men. They focus on
the ideologies in which those actions are embedded and which they actual-
ize or subvert, stressing their multiple and often contradictory aspects, as
Weiner does here.

Weiner s book is likely to introduce, or to emphasize, the gender dimen-
sions to some scholars of economic relations and exchange who may have
either ignored or paid minimal attention to women's productive or repro-
ductive activities and their consequences. Weiner s own ethnographic re-
analyses of Trobriand Island exchange, which document women's exchanges
of skirts and banana-leaf bundles, ritually essential counterpoints to mens
famous interisland exchanges of stone and shell valuables, or kula, are well
known, particularly through her first book (1976). Still, a great deal of
the anthropological writing on gender and on women, both ethnographic
and theoretical, which has burgeoned in the last twenty years, is read with
great interest, but mostly within a restricted subset of anthropologists and
social theorists, largely female, who already identify themselves as gender
scholars. I have heard male colleagues say, "I'm not interested in gender,"
using a tone and language they would probably not employ publicly to pro-
claim a lack of interest in, say, political anthropology. By not using the words
gender or women in her title, and by writing an important theoretical work
addressing core issues in economic anthropology — production, accumula-
tion, exchange — and political anthropology — rank, chiefdoms, the creation

106 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

and maintenance of social inequality — Weiner will compel many of her col-
leagues, whether they ultimately agree with her or not, to consider and take
seriously the gendered dimensions of women's and men's actions as they
generate and reshape wealth and power.

Like Marilyn Strathern's The Gender of the Gift (1988), Weiner's Inalien-
able Possessions integrates gender into a reexamination of exchange — in
Weiner's case with an emphasis on what is not exchanged — and uses a close
reading of these aspects of social life — across Oceania for Weiner and in
Melanesia for Strathern — as a lens for rethinking social relations more gen-
erally in all parts of the world. Weiner argues that anthropologists have paid
insufficient attention to the cross-sex sibling bond, or what she calls sibling
intimacy; to the productive, exchange, and ritual roles of women as sisters
rather than as wives; and to women as actors in social dramas rather than
as mere objects — valuable ones to be sure — exchanged between men. The
focus on the marital pair and the nuclear family, she reminds us, is part of a
European cultural legacy. European anthropologists and those who read
their theoretical works, whatever their cultural backgrounds, have uncriti-
cally allowed these cultural assumptions to pass unanalyzed, she says, and to
be projected onto non- Western societies. "Giving a sibling to a spouse is like
giving an inalienable possession to an outsider" (p. 73), Weiner states. Note
the gender-neutral language: she sees this as a fundamental principle apply-
ing to husbands and wives, sisters and brothers.

Wealth Held and Lost

Weiner uses ethnographic examples from societies in Australia, Melanesia,
and Polynesia with varying types of social hierarchy and with matrilineal,
patrilineal, and cognatic descent to support her theses: that conserved
wealth, imbued with mana or ancestral power, is key to understanding the
meanings of what is exchanged and to the construction of hierarchy and dif-
ference; that women's production and exchange are central to social and
political formations even in societies usually described by anthropologists as
male dominant and excluding women from the prestige economy and ritual;
and that a close, continuing bond between adult sister and brother, often
extending to their children, is substantiated in exchange and religious prac-
tice, authenticating rank or natal lineage identity. She makes briefer com-
parative excursions into the ethnographic and historical literature on ancient
Greece, medieval Europe, and the Pacific Northwest coast in the nine-
teenth century, among other times and places. Inalienable Possessions draws
together and significantly expands on ideas from a number of Weiner's pre-
viously published essays on exchange, cultural reproduction, and women's

Book Review Forum 107

wealth, and the hook is valuable as a more fully developed and comprehen-
sive treatment of her theoretical positions.

Weiner first traces the concept of reciprocity in European economic
history, as in the "reciprocal give and take of the marketplace" (p. 28).
She notes that Marx, Morgan, Maine, and other nineteenth-century social
theorists, writing in a milieu of industrial capitalism run rampant, envisioned
"primitive societies" as characterized by reciprocity and communalism with-
out social inequality. This nineteenth-century intellectual legacy, she believes,
has been largely unnoticed and unchallenged in anthropology, received as it
is through the modernist and ethnographically buttressed exchange theories
of Malinowski and Mauss. Weiner uses a brief survey of medieval European
legal and philosophical treatments of wealth, especially land, to develop her
concept of inalienable possessions as "symbolic repositories of genealogies
and historical events" identified with "a particular series of owners through
time" (p. 33).

This discussion raises a fundamental question, which can also be asked
about the Pacific societies she later analyzes. As Weiner often but briefly
notes, the categories of things she calls inalienable possessions do in fact
become alienated: by conquest, by lack of issue, by the sale of landed
estates, by gift. I will use one of the best-known European examples: the
crown of England. Along with the "cosmological authentication" of the
divine right of kings, it has passed from Plantagenets to Tudors and Stuarts
to Hanoverians and the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, also known as the
House of Windsor, along with assorted duchies, castles, and crown jewels.
David Cannadine (1990:103) quotes Lord Ailesbury, writing in 1911: "A
man does not like to go down to posterity as the alienator of old family pos-
sessions." But, Cannadine continues, "that was exactly what he and many
others of his class were doing." The British royal family and the wealthiest
dukes still own significant chunks of the British Isles, as Weiner points out in
a footnote. On the other hand, recent historical research shows that one-
quarter of all the land in England, about one-third of both Wales and Scot-
land, and an even-higher fraction of Ireland were sold by the nobility and
landed gentry in the years just before and after the First World War,
reversing five hundred years' worth of accumulation of land, the premier
European inalienable possession, by a tiny handful of privileged families
(Cannadine 1990:111).

What does it mean when the "inalienable" is alienated? It may be viewed
as catastrophic or tragic by certain participants or onlookers and as a great
victory against tyranny by others, but disruption of the orderly succession to
and inheritance of dala lands or duchies occurs somewhere in the socially
known world in every generation. In my view these disruptions do not

108 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

negate Weiners core concept of "inalienable" possessions, which she care-
fully explains can be appropriated by outsiders, along with their "cosmologi-
cal authentication." But pursuing further the political and ritual meanings of
these periodic appropriations, which are both material and symbolic, at
greater length might lead to fresh perspectives on social change and conti-
nuity, equality and hierarchy, just as Weiners focus on what is kept illumi-
nates what is given and why.

As Weiner points out (p. 23), we anthropologists and our perspectives are
shaped by "our" field sites. We forever afterward see the world, at home and
elsewhere, not just through the eyes of our natal cultures but through our
own bemused version of the worldviews of the people with whom we have
lived. It is logical that Weiner looks at the gendered nature of social relations
and the accumulation and distribution of wealth cross-culturally through
Trobriand as well as Western and anthropological eyes. This has led her to
examine the ethnographic accounts of others in search of a female domain
of exchange focusing on fibrous wealth and, after living off and on for years
with the matrilineal Trobrianders, for evidence of close economic and ritual
ties between sisters and brothers. The most striking thing about her reanal-
yses of the ethnographic literature — and to the rethinking of the ethno-
graphic corpus that her book provokes in the reader — is not that some
societies seem to give lesser or little weight to the accumulation of forms of
wealth imbued with sacred power, that is, to a separate but ritually essential
female domain in which "cloth" is exchanged, or to close sibling relations. It
is that so many societies do emphasize these things to some degree, what-
ever their types of political stratification or descent rules.

In one of her most intriguing chapters, Weiner turns to Polynesia, partic-
ularly to the Maori, Samoans, and Hawaiians, for examples of the interrela-
tions of "cloth" wealth, heirlooms and insignias of divine authority, giving
and keeping, gender relations and the cross-sex sibling tie, female mana,
and chiefly powers. She relates these to means that vary in each culture and
over time for creating and maintaining rank and hierarchy. Chiefs, usually
male but occasionally female, give away while preserving their most pre-
cious heirlooms, often created by women of an earlier generation. Their
gifts are replacements that call attention to what they keep, such as particu-
lar, famous cloaks of feathers or flax, or the oldest and finest mats or tapa
cloth. These are permeated with ancestral power, may even become divine
themselves, and bear political legitimacy to their owners and conservators.
Chiefs and rivals build political hierarchy, Weiner argues, by capturing the
inalienable possessions of others. As recent ethnographic research in Samoa
by Weiner and others shows, the ritual /political use of fibrous wealth and of
women's production continues to this day in the independent island nations

Book Review Forum 109

of Polynesia. Reading this chapter vividly reminded me of visiting Nuku-
alofa, the capital of Tonga, in 1977 and seeing fifty women sitting cross-
legged in the square in the middle of town, opposite the bank and the
Morris Hedstrom store, producing piles of tapa cloth for an upcoming
wedding in the Tongan royal family.

Weiner s view of Polynesian chiefly keeping (the oldest and rarest wealth
objects, imbued with mana) while giving (valuable goods, paradoxically
drawing attention to objects withheld that validate the owners authority) as
the mechanism for creating and maintaining hierarchy differs from, but is
still compatible with, earlier, more materialist analyses that emphasize
chiefs' responsibilities to give. To avoid being killed and having all their pos-
sessions plundered in a mass revolt, chiefs in times of drought or famine
were under intense pressure to "give" the surplus food they had previously
collected in tribute from others. This noblesse oblige, to use an equivalent
European term, simultaneously preserved their authority, displayed their
divine power, and safeguarded their most precious possessions, as Weiner
would likely observe.

Kula and Inalienable Possessions

Weiner compliments the skills of an array of Oceanic ethnographers by
using their rich and detailed accounts to substantiate her own theoretical
projects, even when she reaches conclusions those who collected the data
may not share. But the chapter of Inalienable Possessions that will probably
be most closely read is the one on kula, largely based on her own ethno-
graphic research though interwoven with the observations of others, includ-
ing contemporaries and our distinguished predecessor, Bronislaw Malinow-
ski. Weiner rereads kula giving as loss and getting (keeping) as fame. She
also points out something that is rarely emphasized: in kula, there are many
losers, individuals (almost all kula players are men) who give shells hoping to
open or strengthen particular kula paths but who get back much less than
they hoped, and without gaining fame from their giving. This is the only way
a successful few can accumulate large numbers of important armshells and
necklaces and then judiciously distribute a few of them to favored partners,
hoarding the rest for years or even a generation. Kula, then, does create dif-
ference, as objects of value do in Polynesia. But — with the partial exception
of the Kiriwina chiefs, especially in the precolonial era— this difference is
individual and comparatively ephemeral, creating personal fame and tempo-
rary influence only "within kula," Weiner writes (p. 133), rather than hered-
itary rank and authority for a group of people and their descendants. Kula.
she argues, is an arena outside of kinship and locality that may lead to spe-

110 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

cific kinds of authority and fame. Prized shells are trophies that may be kept.
Like Polynesian heirlooms, they attract other valuables to their (temporary)
owners, who substitute gifts of lesser valuables of the same type as that
which is hoarded, gifts that paradoxically remind the recipients and specta-
tors of the valuable withheld and thus the power of their owner.

Kula armshells and necklaces are not inalienable possessions, then, in
Weiner's terms. They "lack sacred powers" (p. 133). Kula does not generate
rank "because kula shells lack cosmological authentication and women's par-
ticipation is minor." Weiner instead sees chiefly shell decorations, insignia of
rank worn ceremonially, as inalienable possessions — along with dala, or
matrilineage, land. Women's "cloth wealth" objects, banana-leaf skirts and
bundles, signify, despite their brief existence, the cosmological authentica-
tion of matrilineal ancestors that kula shells lack (p. 147).

Here I should explain that my own view of kula and cognate forms of cer-
emonial exchange is from the vantage point of Vanatinai (Sudest Island), in
the Southern Massim, the largest island in the Louisiade Archipelago. Vana-
tinai is not part of the kula ring but connected to it through other exchange
links; armshells are not used in exchange, but large numbers of ceremonial
shell-disc necklaces are made, and the finest, named kula necklaces also cir-
culate in the region today (including some mentioned by Malinowski), along
with several thousand greenstone axeblades and other ceremonial valuables.
Parenthetically, women as well as men ritually exchange these forms of
"hard" wealth (to use Weiners term), associated with men in the Trobriands,
in interisland exchange journeys and at mortuary ritual feasts. At the same
feasts, women also participate in limited but ritually essential exchanges of
coconut-leaf skirts among the matrilineages of the deceased, widowed
spouse, and deceased's father (Lepowsky 1993).

From the perspective of field research in the Southern Massim, I suggest
another possible relationship between kula armshells and necklaces and
Weiners category of inalienable possessions. Following an analysis of Fitz
Poole's beautifully detailed studies of the Bimin-Kuskusmin of interior New
Guinea, whom Weiner sees as transforming human bones into inalienable
possessions embodying ancestors, Weiner writes that bones are a limited
medium of exchange. Unlike "cloth," they cannot easily be produced or rep-
licated to provide replacement objects for exchange, while ancestral relics
are conserved and venerated (p. 117). But I would argue that kula armshells
and necklaces are just that: symbolic replacements of human bones. I was
explicitly told by elders on Vanatinai that shell-disc necklaces, the kind that
circulate in kula as well as in the Louisiade Archipelago, were originally dec-
orated human skulls. The white plate of helmet shell that forms the main
part of what is still called the head of the necklace has been substituted for

Book Review Forum m

the skull, and the decorations of reddish shell discs, wild banana seed, pearl
shell, and so on have become more elaborate and various (and some kula
necklaces lack this type of pendant altogether).

Decorated Conus armshells (and the Trochus shell bracelets worn by a
few big- men at Vanatinai feasts), I further suggest, are metaphorical substi-
tutes for human jawbone bracelets. These used to be worn on Vanatinai,
according to the diary of a twenty-four-year-old assistant ship s surgeon and
assistant naturalist named Thomas Henry Huxley, who arrived in Sudest
Lagoon in 1849 on HMS Rattlesnake. Huxley tried but failed to barter with
its owner for one such bracelet, which had only one tooth (the jaw seemed
to be lashed to an animal bone), but "the old fellow would not part from it
for love or money. Hatchets, looking-glasses, handkerchiefs, all were spurned
and he seemed to think our attempts to get it rather absurd, turning to his
fellows and jabbering, whereupon they all set up a great clamour, and
laughed. Another jaw was seen in one of the canoes, so that it is possibly the
custom there to ornament themselves with the memorials of friends or
trophies of vanquished foes." The man returned the next day with another
"jaw bracelet ... in fine preservation and [which] evidently belonged to a
young person . . . with every tooth being entire" (Huxley 1935:191-192). I
presume that the first bracelet was an ancestral relic and the second the
relic of a recently slain enemy.

Jawbone bracelets were also observed around 1900 near Milne Bay and
Samarai (Monckton 1922). Given the sketchy nature of our information on
the precolonial Massim, it is highly possible that jawbone bracelets were
customary relics of ancestors or trophies of war on many islands, especially
since secondary burial was the norm. Both Vanatinai and Misima Island
people tell me that interisland skull exchange was practiced throughout the
Louisiade Archipelago, on Vanatinai until as recently as about 1910 (see
Macintyre 1983 for skull exchange on Tubetube Island). The relatives of a
slain warrior sometimes demanded the skull of an enemy victim as compen-
sation. The skull of an important defeated enemy might be decorated with
face paint, scented resins, flowers, and leaves, and the victorious warrior
would present it to his grateful allies in exchange for shell-disc necklaces
and greenstone axeblades.

Nineteenth-century European visitors to the Louisiade Archipelago con-
firm the practice of skull exchange. The skull of beche-de-mer fisherman
Frank Gerret, murdered on Panapompom Island, was exchanged for twenty-
five greenstone axeblades in 1885. The skull of the unfortunate John McOrt.
murdered at Brooker (Utian) Island, was still circulating seven years after
his death in 1878. A man from Motorina Island obtained it in exchange "lor
several pigs, canoes, white arm-shells, and hatchet-heads" and hung it in his

112 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

house rafters (Bevan 1890; see Lepowsky 1993). Note the exchange of one
of the primary types of kula valuables, "white arm-shells," for a skull.

Even in this late precolonial form of skull exchange, ancestral relics do
not circulate but are conserved, and retrieved from enemies, as inalienable
possessions, to use Weiners term. Relics today are imbued with ancestral
power, as they surely were in the past. Small pieces of a mothers skull, a
fathers tooth, or a lock of a deceased sisters hair are secreted by many
people in their personal baskets as talismans and are used in magic and sor-
cery. These relics embody both ancestral and personal power and to some
extent the power of the deceaseds matrilineage. But in the militantly egali-
tarian society of Vanatinai they do not create or authenticate rank or lineage
authority.

Vanatinai elders told me that the exchange of shell-disc necklaces and
other valuables began in ancient times as a peacemaking ceremony. Reo
Fortune, based on field research on Dobu Island in the 1920s, wrote that
kula is "like an annually repeated peacemaking ceremony" ([1932] 1963:
209; see also Young 1971 for similar explanations from Goodenough Island
and Macintyre 1983 for Tubetube Island). In the late precolonial period, the
two forms, skull exchange and kula and its cognates, coexisted, just as off-
islanders traded in some years and places and raided in others. The actual
and metaphorical substitution of decorated shells for the decorated skulls
of war victims — formerly ransomed from enemies with shell valuables and
greenstone axeblades and reclaimed as ancestors — is entirely logical in an
ongoing, increasingly effective and elaborated international peace treaty. If
kula and cognate interisland exchanges began as peacemaking, the giving
and getting of valuables are not intended to validate interlineage difference,
authority, or rank. They are instead a ritualized and aggressive form of com-
petition among individuals from different islands that substitutes for warfare
and for the wealth and renown that a champion warrior (an exclusively male
role) and his home island, district, or hamlet would gain. And this is why, in
the Massim as a whole, though not in the southeastern islands, kula is, as
Malinowski put it, "essentially a man's type of activity" (1922:280).

Ancestral relics continue to be guarded in secrecy by individuals and
used to make the matrilineal children and gardens of these ancestors fruit-
ful. They are also used in the powerful magic of exchange — in a metaphori-
cal form of sympathetic magic, or like to like — to attract other valuables and
to seduce exchange partners, making them dizzy with desire and eager to
give away their carefully conserved articles of wealth. Making peace and
exchanging symbolic decorated relics in kula protects the ownership of
"inalienable possessions": ancestral matrilineal lands and relics that might
otherwise be conquered and plundered.

Book Review Forum 113

Keeping While Giving

Annette Werner's "anthropological experiment" in Inalienable Possessions
successfully challenges the rest of us to rethink our assumptions about
exchange, reciprocity, and authority. Not all her readers will agree with her
about the universality of her theses, or her conclusions about the local com-
plexities of action and belief in a particular milieu, but they will have to con-
sider them carefully and articulate their own analyses in response. Weiner's
call to look afresh at some of Our most basic anthropological tenets of social
relations is a welcome one. In issuing it she joins an all-too-small group of
contemporary anthropological theorists who provoke us to think in new
ways about the underlying themes and permutations of human social life
instead of sheltering ourselves in received wisdom and our prior assump-
tions about the meanings of ethnographic data, our own and that of others.
Admirably original in concept, this book extends Weiner's views of inalien-
able possessions, female wealth, siblingship, and the creation of social differ-
ence, generated in the ethnographic matrix of the Trobriand Islands, into a
variety of social arenas. Although Weiner limits herself primarily to Pacific
societies, as she says, variations on the theme of "keeping-while-giving" are
found in all societies. No anthropologist will be able to ignore this important
book.

REFERENCES

Bevan, Theodore

1890 Toil, Travel and Discovery in British New Guinea. London: Kegan Paul,
Trench, Trubner & Co.

Cannadine, Da\id

1990 The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy. New Haven: Yale University
Press.

Fortune, Reo

[1932] Sorcerers ofDobu: The Social Anthropology of the Dobu Islanders of the West-
1963 em Pacific. Reprint, New York: E. P. Dutton.

Huxley, Julian, ed.

1935 T H. Huxley's Diary of the Voyage of H. M.S. Rattlesnake. London: Chatto and
Windus.

Lepowsky, Maria

1993 Fruit of the Motherland: Gender in an Egalitarian Society. New York: Columbia
University Press.

114 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Macintyre, Martha

1983 Warfare and the Changing Context of "Kune" on Tubetube. Journal of Pacific
History 18:11-34.

Malinowski, Bronislaw

1922 Argonauts of the Western Pacific. New York: E. P. Dutton.
[1935] Coral Gardens and Their Magic: A Study of the Methods of Tilling the Soil and
1978 of Agricultural Rites in the Trobriand Islands. 2 vols. New York: American
Book. Reprinted in 1 vol., New York: Dover Publications.

Monckton, C. A. W.

1922 Some Experiences of a New Guinea Resident Magistrate. London: John Lane.

Strathern, Marilyn

1988 The Gender of the Gift: Problems with Women and Problems with Society in
Melanesia. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Weiner, Annette

1976 Women of Value, Men of Renown: New Perspectives in Trobriand Exchange.
Austin: University of Texas Press.

Young, Michael

1971 Fighting with Food: Leadership, Values, and Social Control in a Massim
Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Review: Marc Auge

ecole des hautes etudes en sciences sociales

Paris

The central argument of Annette Weiner in Inalienable Possessions, if I may
summarize it somewhat generally, can be broken down into three affirma-
tions:

1 / Underlying all economic practices described in terms of reciprocity is
a more profound reality: preserving the goods that escape reciprocal ex-
change. These "inalienable possessions," which make up the essence of the
paradox of "keeping-while-giving," are markers of identity, difference, and
power. Weiner thus distances herself not only from her predecessor in this
field, Malinowski, but also from all those who have seen in the pair "gift/
counter-gift" an instrument of power neutralization. She thus has in her
sights Mauss himself ("Even when Mauss described the ambivalence gener-
ated by the gift ... he still avowed that, ultimately, reciprocity neutralized
power" [p. 43]), as well as Bataille, who opposes the ideal of "consumption"
to capitalistic utilitarianism but does not see that the possibility of simulta-
neously keeping goods while responding to the demands of expenditure and

Book Review Forum 1 15

display results in the creation of strong hierarchical differences ("It is in the
potential threat of violence and destruction that power emerges, transfixed
at the center of keeping-while-giving" [p. 41]). Closer to home, she criticizes
Sahlins, who "could not integrate the concept of gain with the Maussian
(and Hobbesian) belief that exchange made enemies into friends" (p. 43).

2/ Women occupy a distinctive place and play a predominant role in the
fabrication of inalienable possessions and, by the same token, in social
reproduction. This second affirmation is itself the synthesis of three comple-
mentary propositions. First, anthropologists have not, in general, accorded
enough importance to the economic and symbolic value of goods of vegetal
origin, what she calls cloth (including "all objects made from threads and
fibers," such as Trobriand banana-leaf bundles [p. 157n]). These goods
belong nonetheless to the category of those that are destined to be kept as
well as to be given away. Second, even if women, in general, have played a
larger role than men in cloth production, men are implicated in and depen-
dent on cloth treasures. In a like fashion, women play a role in the circula-
tion and guardianship of hard substances such as jade, shells, or ancestral
bones and are thus involved in the political realm. Third, contrary to what
certain feminists have affirmed, the role of women in biological reproduc-
tion does not condemn them everywhere and always to political nonexist-
ence, and the proof of this assertion can be found in their role in the control
and transmission of inalienable possessions, both soft and hard, that are
associated with symbolic systems concerning both biological and cultural
reproduction.

3/ Sibling intimacy is a fact just as remarkable as the sibling incest taboo.
In fact, the existence of the sibling incest taboo does not at all imply the
absence of strong ties between brother and sister ("Like inalienable posses-
sions, this ritualized sibling bond remains immovable because in each gen-
eration politically salient social identities and possessions are guarded and
enhanced through it" [p. 67]). Sibling intimacy is essential in cultural repro-
duction (from close economic and social dependence to real or virtual
incest).

My modest contribution to this forum devoted to the work of Annette
Weiner is the product of a double paradox. First of all, I have only a bookish
and distant rapport with Oceania. Secondly, my Africanist research
has acquainted me with populations that privilege accumulation over ex-
change and where, byway of parenthesis, weaving activities were essentially
masculine.

After having declared my admiration for the remarkably structured and
well-argued work of Annette Weiner, I will limit myself to citing a few facts
about Africa, some of which may serve as a further demonstration of her

116 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

ideas and others of which may serve not as a refutation but as a catalyst for
further interrogation.

I will make reference here, for the most part, to the West African soci-
eties of Akan tradition that, as common traits, have strong political struc-
tures (chieftainships and kingdoms), are matrilineal, and accord a large
importance to loincloths, which, with gold objects, figure in the lineal trea-
sures. These societies are display-oriented, with the exhibition of riches
highly ritualized, but they do not practice destruction or ritual circulation of
goods.

I would like to remark first of all that Akan societies always accord an
important place, both symbolically and politically, to the mother or the sister
of the chief or king in power. The idea would never occur to anyone (not
even to an ethnologist) to deny this role. The accordance of this importance,
however, does not appear to me to be linked to a particular function in the
activities of production: weaving, once again, was a masculine activity; it
seems that the production of sea salt brought the two sexes together; gold
extraction was the domain of men. It must be added that in those societies
that began commerce with Europe very early, the work force was essentially
made up of slaves or descendants of slaves (both men and women).

The continuation of the lineage, which progressively integrated a consid-
erable number of endowed women from outside the community, slaves of
both sexes, and descendants of these two groups, required the distinction,
within the matrilineage, between the "pure" line and the adjacent branches.
From another angle, and despite the existence of a theoretically preferential
marriage with the matrilateral cross-cousin, the primary concern was to
accumulate men and women, not to circulate them. This condition resulted
in a whole series of practices that can be seen as forms of metaphoric incest:
the slave wife of a man would call him "father," but, from the point of view
of lineal relationships, she was like his sister and he could have children with
her who would be, at the same time, both sons and uterine "nephews"
(members of the matrilineage). On her side, a woman could, notably if she
was the sister of the head of the lineage, marry a slave or have children with-
out allying herself to another lineage. As a general rule, marriage "to the
closest" (au plus pres), whose preeminence in the case of semicomplex sys-
tems of alliance was established by Francoise Heritier, was the best assur-
ance of the ideological continuation and the demographic growth of the
great lineages. The double obligation, it is quite clear, was achieved by the
types of alliances that incontestably evoked the forbidden and fascinating
image of the brother/sister couple.

This fascination is more explicitly acted out in the case of royal dynasties,
in which the person of the sister appears almost as a component of what one

Book Review Forum \yj

may call "the triple body of the king." The Agni king has a slave double,
called child (from the name given to one of the aspects of his person), and
who is considered as the carrier of the royal ekala, literally doubling the
person of the king and thus protecting him by deflecting to himself any
attacks that might be made against the king. But the body of the king is not
only double: a sister or uterine cousin of the king (the balahinma) assures,
with a man other than the king, the royal descendance. All three (the king,
his ckala slave, and his balahinma sister) perforin a dance from time to time
in the courtyard of the palace that is peculiar to them and whose figures
highlight the plurality of the sovereign body: because an Agni king would be
nothing without the ekala and the balahinma.

In the kingdom of Abomey, in former Dahomey, a little further east, the
king could marry women of the royal clan, notably an agnatic half-sister, but
the children resulting from these unions could not pretend to the succes-
sion. The crown prince could only be the son of a woman outside the royal
couple. The royal couple (the king and his half-sister), in a fashion similar to
those1 of certain kingdoms of East Africa, incarnates the dynasty and is a
symbol of its permanence but not the means of its biological reproduction.
In the Agni kingdom, the formula is the opposite: the children of the po-
lygynous king do not play any role in the dynastic succession and the
"queen-mother" (sister, niece, or uterine cousin of the king) freely chooses
her sexual partners and gives birth to the potential successors to royal power.
It should be added that among the Ashanti, as Rattray has already pointed
out, the possibility of marriage with the patrilateral cross-cousin was re-
served to princelv families, thus assuring, every other generation, the return
of the agnatic line into the matrilineage and the accumulation upon one
individual of the principles and substances attributed respectively to each of
the two lines of descendances.

These conditions suggest three remarks to me. The first, already formu-
lated, is that, in the African examples I am familiar with, the role of women
in the biological and cultural reproduction of the group does not appear to
be obviously linked to a specific place in production activities. I would add
that the women explicitly invited to exercise an ordinarily masculine func-
tion (political among the Lagoon cultures of the Ivory Coast when they ful-
fill a role of "regent" of the lineage, commercial among the Nuer where a
woman could "endow" other women whose children would be hers) were
women somewhat older, beyond menopause and thus outside the sphere of
biological reproduction.

The second remark would concern the fact that in the matrilinear soci-
eties to which I have briefly made reference, the agnatic ideology is ver)
strong (the essential powers are supposed to be transmitted from father to

118 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

son, or from paternal grandfather to grandson, while the women are
described as "pirogues," assuring the transport of the children to be born
without contributing substantially to their composition). The most obvious
feminine power is that of the women closely associated with the control of
objects that guarantee the perpetuity of the clan and thus of the person of
the sovereign.

The third remark is an extension of the second. Everything is organized
as if, in the African theories of power, there was a desire to prevent the best-
positioned women in the clan or lineal hierarchy from controlling the two
modes of reproduction: in the Dahoman model the children of the wife-
sister of the king may not pretend to the succession; in the Agni model the
sister of the king assures the reproduction of the dynasty, but not through
union with her brother. The difference in the filiation principles can in part
account for this contrast, but one may consider this difference as actually
constitutive of it.

I have put myself in the difficult position of commenting on Weiners
analyses on the basis of examples in which the role of "keeping" is more evi-
dent than that of "giving" — the societies I have spoken about having been
implicated for a long time in intra- and intercontinental exchange of a decid-
edly commercial nature (and extending as well to human merchandise). But
it seems to me that Weiners propositions can find, in these "counter-
examples," an extension and a verification.

Review: Jonathan Friedman
University of Lund

The Paradox of Keeping- While-Giving

I was excited at the prospect of reading this book. It promised a new per-
spective and a genuine critique of classical exchange theory in anthropol-
ogy.1 I suspected that an approach based on the concept of reproduction,
social reproduction as I would express it, had much to offer. I must confess
to disappointment and even to irritation, perhaps because of my anticipa-
tion. In any case this has led me to produce a deliberately polemical discus-
sion, in part because I feel it necessary to be provocative in order to clarify
important issues, but also because I find that this work is so unclear at criti-
cal junctures as to strip the principal argument of much of its force.

Some years ago, a colleague of mine wrote a manuscript called "Vaginal
Power," which dealt with the world historical defeat of the female sex
(Leleur 1974, 1979). Her argument was that women in fact had complete

Book Review Forum \\q

and total power over the reproduction of society since they literally had con-
trol over the process of biological reproduction, that is, the production of
the species. World history was witness to the many and various ways that
men had struggled to overcome, negate, and dissolve this power, by force,
authority, control over strategic goods, and symbolic discourse. I found her
wonderful fantasy quite powerful and there was certainly a great deal of eth-
nographic material to illustrate her thesis, at least in retrospect, and not least
in the ethnography from Melanesia with its menstruating men and male rit-
ual capture of female fertility. The myths of many Amazonian Indian groups
recounting the way in which men got hold of female powers, flutes and so
forth, the way they broke their vagina dentata with stones to reverse the
order of things, and the social practices of shaming bad hunters all seemed
quite suitable arguments for a real turnaround in history. Although I did not
agree with her argument, she at least was clear enough in her presentation
to admit of common interpretations of ethnographic examples.

This book is different. For while it proposes a "new" theory, its contours
are vague and often self-contradictory and they do not, in the end, consti-
tute anything particularly new. Weiner sets out to reinterpret the nature of
"reciprocity, the incest taboo, and women's roles in reproduction" (p. ix).
She continues an argument that has appeared in many of her previous
works.

The theoretical thrust of this book is the development of a theory of
exchange that follows the paradox of keeping-while-giving into the
social and political relations between women and men with fore-
most attention to their involvement in human and cultural repro-
duction. The traditional theories . . . that view men's production as
the foundation for political hierarchy are no longer tenable. When
women are analytically relegated to the sidelines of history or poli-
tics, the emergent view is ethnographically shallow and theoreti-
cally distorted. (P. x)

In my opinion this statement of purpose expresses fundamental confu-
sion concerning both the motives and nature of both exchange and the role
of women in relation to social power. Although important to consider the
nature of "keeping" as she does, I cannot subscribe to the way in which she
goes about her analysis. In what follows I shall, in a deliberately provocative
way, try to unpack what I see as the triviality of the notion of "keeping-while-
giving" and the absurdity of the notion that production, men's or women's,
can be the source of anything other than products. The root of the confusion
is that the entire argument is constructed around the concept ol possession.

120 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

a concept that transforms identity and social being into a collection of exter-
nal objects, whether they be pieces of barkcloth or ritual knowledge.

The book begins by introducing the concept of reproduction, a notion
that has been around for quite some time but which is not discussed in any
depth. Reference is made to biological reproduction and to the "cosmologi-
cal resources" that societies draw upon in their reproduction. Here she
makes a point that many, even many Marxists and structuralists, would agree
with: that cosmology enters or, as others might say, is a constituent of social
relations and material processes. The Noh dancer who becomes the god
when wearing his mask, rather than simply "playing" the god, exemplifies an
issue that is certainly important. Much the same could be said of "money,"
which after all is nothing but paper, but paper endowed with enormous
power, and not merely representative of that power (Friedman 1974b; Cas-
toriadis 1975). Her principal claim at the start of her discussion concerns
what she calls "cosmological authentification . . . how material practices link
individuals and groups with an authority that transcends present social and
political action" (p. 5). Cosmologies, then, "act directly on social life." Power
is "constituted through rights and accesses to these cosmological authentica-
tions." Finally, since "through exchange the cosmological domain becomes a
significant source of power, its ambiguity and precariousness create differ-
ence, not homogeneity" (p. 5).

This all sounds quite reasonable except for the idea that cosmology is
translated into power in exchange, which presupposes that cosmology exists
first and is then incorporated into acts of exchange, like capital. Surely the
relation between cosmology and the nature of valuables is more complex.

European history is invoked from the start to discredit the work of Mauss
as being based on an oversimplified "orientalist"-style dichotomization.
Against this she argues for a more universal dichotomization of alienable
and inalienable possessions, a distinction that is taken from Mauss's distinc-
tion between immeuble and meuble, a somewhat different distinction that,
while employing the notion of mobility, does not specify the nature of the
relation between person and object. Fixed property, as in "buildings and
grounds" are immeuble, but not because of their inalienability. In any case,
this distinction is declared more fundamental than the nature of the rela-
tions established in exchange, in the properties of reciprocity. It is, of
course, Mauss himself who sought the mystery of the gift in the so-called
"spirit," that is, in its attraction to its original owner.2 The years of comments
on Mauss's essay have stressed one or another aspect of the problem of
alienability but almost always in the context of the social relation between
givers and takers. In Inalienable Possessions, the relation between partners
is played down entirely to the benefit of the function of inalienability. While

Book Review Forum 121

Weiners interpretation is suggestive, it implies a definite motivation as well:
that the owners or possessors of such objects want to keep them. But it is
precisely such objects that can be the means for the establishment and
maintenance of hierarchy. The use of goods, their potential power, depends
upon the social relations in which they are embedded. In some systems such
goods arc hoarded; in others they are dispersed even where they "desire" to
return to their owners, that is, they are "fertile" in Sahlins's sense (1972).
Inalienability suggests unequivocally a possessive desire. This is our cate-
gory and not theirs, not unless otherwise demonstrated.

But what is the nature of inalienable possessions? Here we are quickly
introduced to questions of group identity and the objects that represent that
identity. Ancestral valuables or wealth stamped with prestigious names, per-
sonal or collective, from heirlooms to sacred knowledge: such are the major
objects in this category. Inalienability expresses transcendence as opposed to
the transience of exchange. Here we are reminded of Blochs earlier discus-
sions of the transformation of the dead into ancestors, that is, into perma-
nence as opposed to the impermanence of the everyday and of the life cycle
itself. Bloch and Parry carry this into the realm of exchange as well, detailing
ritual versus secular exchange as an expression of the basic principle of
the long versus the short term. The examples used by Weiner suggest yet
another classic distinction, between descent and alliance, as expressed in the
structural functionalist literature where descent was about the permanent,
about society itself, certainly about social identity, whereas alliance was con-
ceived as accidental and unsystematic. The inalienable here would be equiv-
alent to the existence of submerged descent lines born by people in marital
movement from one descent group to another.

I state these parallels because they lead to what I see as the trivial aspect
of the argument. The coexistence of alienable and inalienable possessions,
of giving and keeping, is a simple deduction from the concept of exchange.
Exchange is something that goes on between units, the parties to the ex-
change. Now, if the inalienable is about identity, it follows, by implication,
that such objects cannot be consumed by others without creating a serious
loss of identity. If social identity were just as negotiable as other exchange-
ables, the units of exchange would disappear altogether. Exchange presup-
poses difference. This is a simple question of logic. And the difference, of
course, is the distinction between exchange units. So when Weiner insists on
the bold new idea that exchange marks "difference" via that which is not
exchanged, she is merely stating the obvious. The triviality of the "paradox
of keeping while giving" is that it is merely another way of describing
exchange itself. On the other hand, the inalienable is always relatively alien-
able, the latter being a question of relative power. This is expressed in

122 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

numerous Melanesian and other myths that describe a scale of substitution
from people to symbols. Those who cannot pay are indebted and must
retreat along the scale until they are forced to give up themselves or their
children either in debt bondage or even as cannibal victims. If we compare
this to the alliance relation, we can see that while marriage establishes lines
of affiliation, "enslavement" and cannibalism eradicate such links. The
"alienability" of the "inalienable" reveals the nature and extent of relative
power and authority.

Weiner seems quite obsessed with the fact that anthropologists, both
male and female, have underestimated the real power of women in tradi-
tional societies. This may be true, but she does little to provide an alterna-
tive understanding. It is claimed that women, as producers of cloth that
contains mana or cosmologically defined life-force, are central to the status
of their kin groups, especially their brothers, and that this makes them
powerful as well. What is overlooked is that production itself implies noth-
ing about the social relations in which it occurs. Otherwise Inca women who
supposedly produced the famed cumbi cloth (p. 12), industrial workers,
plantation slaves, and so forth have the real power in the world. Need I say
this? Isn't it obvious? Surely the control over wealth and its distribution,
rather than its production, has always been understood to be the major
issue. It would appear that this is denied by the author, who has also redis-
covered the critical role of cloth in hierarchical societies: "But even with this
example [Inca] of cloth produced by women, the production and accumula-
tion of such wealth has never been considered an essential resource in theo-
ries of political evolution" (p. 12). 3

But the role of both cloth and other prestige goods has been central to
many years of research on what have been referred to as prestige-good
systems and their transformation (Ekholm 1972, 1977; Friedman and Row-
lands 1977; Friedberg 1977; Friedman 1981, 1982; Liep 1991).

The apparent importance of women's production launches Weiner into a
discussion of the overlooked significance of brother-sister relations and
especially incest. If women are an important source of "power," then incest
is a means of creating a repository of rank. In comparing the Trobriands with
Samoa with Hawai'i, she argues that the brother-sister relation is the core of
the emergence of hierarchy. The Trobrianders attempt to procure children
for their matrilineages. The Samoans have their sacred sisters to whom
access by incest would prove an excellent solution. The Hawaiians institu-
tionalized incest precisely as a means to create rank. The problem with this
discussion is that incest can never create rank as such. It can only maintain
it. Low-ranked incest does not produce high rank. Gaining access to higher
rank is usually related to strategic exogamous marriage combined with sue-

Book Review Forum 123

cvsslul conquest. And being a sacred sister cannot in itself establish the
social rank of the person concerned.

It is of course true that women can and do become chiefs, not least in
Hawaii. This is not because of their sex or gender but because of their
rank— rank that is probably very often dependent upon the male warrior
chiefs in their own groups. That gender is central in the very definition
of power is clear for Oceania as for other areas of the world. The dualism
of sacred and secular power, common in Indonesia, Africa, and Western
Polynesia, is less about the power of women and more about gendered
power itself. The male sacred chiefs of the Wehali in Timor, just as the
priest-chiefs of the Kongo kingdom, represented fertility and peace, and
were defined in female terms, just as the female elite of the Kongo kingdom
were defined socially as males in relation to male commoners. The very con-
stitution of the categories of power in many hierarchical societies says a
great deal about the importance of female attributes, but this is a question of
the gendering of social categories and not an expression of the relative
power of women and men. Otherwise any woman can be a chief and no man
can occupy a position defined in female terms.

In chapter 4 Weiner argues that the different ways in which inalienable
possessions are distributed determine the degree of hierarchy that can be
established. The cosmologically authenticated objects, inalienable because
they are constitutive of group identity, are either kept inside a restricted
group or circulated more widely. The variation runs from the Aranda who
circulate such objects within a wider kinship network, thereby creating hier-
archy, to the Melpa who circulate objects widely but do not provide them
with cosmological authenticity, thus rendering differentiation and thereby
hierarchy impossible. Here again the stress on BZ relations and the ideal of
incest to avoid the loss of inalienable objects are invoked. That the Melpa
maintain an ideal, among many others, of sibling incest to avoid giving need
not be interpreted as a desire for inalienable possessions. It might instead be
a statement about the conflictual nature of exchange. In chapter 5 this is
applied to the Trobriands. Sisters make banana- leaf bundles that authenti-
cate the specificity of their lineages, but there is no way of converting the
status attained by the possession otkula valuables into lineage status. And if
such production is meant to differentiate one group from another, some
banana-leaf bundles ought to be more valued than others, but this, as I
understand, is not the case. On the contrary, the evidence of hierarchy that
is patently organized around clientelistic relations to those in control ol kula
valuables and the set of transactions that link harvest gifts to such valuables
is evidence of the potential for extensive ranking, which has, according to
what can be gleaned from archaeology, varied in degree over time. There is

124 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

evidence that other societies of the current kula ring (perhaps not so old)
have had more hierarchy in the past. A great deal of male wealth — distrib-
uted in relation to mortuary celebrations in which female-produced cloth is
given to related lineages — certainly cannot be argued to curb hierarchy in
Kiriwina. Even the Melpa are said to have had a great deal more hierarchy
in the not-so-distant past when monopoly over the shell trade from the coast
still existed. There was apparently a system of ranked shells, the most valu-
able of which were retained by men of high rank. The fact that certain shells
tended to be inalienable is a product of the rank system itself and not its
cause. The alternative explanation that suggests itself has to do with the rela-
tion between degrees of monopoly, that is, control over such prestige goods
and their transformation via alliance relations into ranking among groups. In
reading all these examples one is struck by the almost tautological nature of
the interpretations. The present state of a social situation is accounted for in
terms of one of its elements: the X have no hierarchy because they don't
exchange their inalienable objects; the Y have hierarchy because they don't
exchange their inalienable objects. In Hawai'i there is little exchange of
inalienable objects but plenty of hierarchy. In Tonga there is plenty of both.
Something is clearly wrong here.

The argument of keeping-while-giving reflected in the nature of the gift,
as well as in the paradox of siblingship combined with exogamy, is simply
that what is given is part of the social self, so that it is, in some metaphorical
way, identity that is transmitted via the circulation of people and things. The
modalities of these transfers have been central to anthropology. It is cer-
tainly advantageous, in my opinion, to treat such relations in a framework of
reproduction, something that has been going on for a great many years
(Ekholm 1972, 1977; Friedman 1974a, 1976, 1979; Rey 1971). For my own
part, I recall having argued many years ago that social "systems" like that of
the Kachin were organized in social reproductive terms in such a way that
produced wealth could be transformed into prestige and then rank by
couplings between production and the circulation of both goods and people
and the way in which such relations were organized cosmologically, and that
the form that this took was the formation of ranked lineages linked by gen-
eralized exchange. This was all done in Marxist language, of course, no
longer fashionable, but the content was perfectly clear. First, cosmology was
not to be understood as secondary representation but as directly organizing
social processes of reproduction, not all cosmology, but central aspects of
that cosmology. Second, the social reproductive process was about the way
in which specific distributions of people into categories occurred and was
maintained, so that gifts and commodities were always moments in a larger
process. These discussions went on for almost a decade, but no mention of
them is made.

Book Review Forum 125

In her conclusion the author combines the triviality of inalienability with
the absurdity of women's supposed power: "In Oceania the development
of ranking and hierarchy depends upon the work of women in their eco-
nomic roles as the producers of wealth and, most important, in the power
of their sac-redness in confirming historical and cosmological authentica-
tion" (p. 153).

Two arguments lie behind this conclusion: (1) that inalienable objects are
those most closely associated with group identity and status, and (2) that it is
women who produce such goods. My criticism is simple. First, inalienable
possessions are a gloss on valuables closely associated with the constitution
of social identity and thereby rank, if such is the case. Such possessions are
only inalienable because Weiner has labeled them as such. The conceptual
apparatus alienable/inalienable is certainly no better than the gift/commod-
ity distinction. Goods that are given to others but possess the identity of the
giver and even a history of previous transactions are not simply alienated.
Nor are they, obviously, simply inalienable, since they are given away. The
problem is the categories themselves and not the people to whom they refer.
The Maussian gift is given away because of what it yields. Weiner argues as
if everything were private property at first and then somehow people were
forced into exchange. This is just as much a myth as any Maussian distinc-
tion. Second, the fact that women produce such valuables does not give
them power as such, nor does their toil lead to ranking. No evidence is
offered here at all. On the contrary, the origins of hierarchy in Oceania as
elsewhere must be located in an accounting for the processes of hierarchiza-
tion, which I suppose implies an accounting of how specific products come
to have such high values that they cannot be easily put into circulation.

I said at the start that the source of the confusion lay in the concept of
inalienable possession itself. If so-called gifts were inalienable the fact that
they are given can only be understood as a loan. But such gifts embody the
life-force of the donor or that to which he has access and the fact that they
are relatively inalienable is a function of their status rather than the reverse.

Is there a more congenial interpretation of this work? If we drop the
notion of inalienable possessions and concentrate on the specific forms of
social reproduction, then we can perhaps connect the processes of accumu-
lation of status with the configuration of mobile and immobile goods over
time. That which is given away, especially Maussian gifts, are instruments of
the constitution of social relations, establishing lines of affiliation. In the
Kongo kingdom, for example, the movement of men downward established
a movement of prestige goods, the highest of which were imported, as well
as a movement of people. Local matrilines were linked by chains of F-S rela-
tions, the latter forming the patrilineal structure that was the political struc-
ture of the kingdom (Ekholm 1977). Thus, the kingdoms patrilines were

126 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

constituted in the practice of exchange, and their structure was held
together by means of a monopoly over imported prestige goods. Cloth and
copper and shells (where imports always had the highest value) were the
major prestige goods and their control was instrumental in the structure of
the kingdom. The vertical flows were also flows of life-force and, conse-
quently, of differential rank. In all of this the establishment of rank is simul-
taneously the creation of a differentiation of value. Thus gifts are not just
about some abstract relation of reciprocity. They are about the constitution
of social relations and of cultural forms, not as disembodied objects but as
moments in the larger process of social reproduction. I subscribe wholly to
the necessity of such claims against an overly reductionist view of exchange
as a thing in itself. But this is certainly nothing new.

NOTES

1. For a what I consider a surprisingly interesting critique of the work of Mauss, see
Derrida 1991.

2. Mauss is clear enough concerning the relationship between personhood and
exchange: "To give something is to give part of oneself . . . one gives away what is in reality
a part of one's nature and substance" (1980:10).

3. Weiner goes to extremes here in misrepresenting the work of Murra, who details the
work of both men and women in cloth production. Specialized dependent weavers were
either aclla, women, or cnmbi camayoc, men, both of whom produced highly ranked
cloth (Murra 1980:72-73). And both categories were dependents, who could not use
the cloth for gaining power. This is no oversight, but a simple falsification of the source
material.

REFERENCES CITED

Bloch, M.

1984 Almost Eating the Ancestors. Man 20.

Bloch, M., and Parry, J.

1989 Money and the Morality of Exchange. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Derrida, J.

1991 Donner le temps: 1. Lafausse monnaie. Paris: Seuil.

Ekholm, K.

1972 Power and Prestige: The Rise and Fall of the Kongo Kingdom. Uppsala:
Skrivservice.

1977 External Exchange and the Transformation of Central African Social Systems.
In The Evolution of Social Systems, ed. J. Friedman and M.J. Rowlands. Lon-
don: Duckworth.

Book Review Forum 127

Friedberg, C.

1977 The Development of Traditional Agricultural Practices in Western Timor. In
The Evolution of Social Systems, ed. J.Friedman and M.J.Rowlands. London:
Duckworth.

Friedman, J.

1974a Marxism, Structuralism, and Vulgar Materialism. Man 9:444-469.
1974b The Place of Fetishism and the Problem of Materialist Interpretations. Critique
of Anthropology, 1.

1976 Marxist Theory and Systems of Total Reproduction. Critique of Anthro-
pology. 7.

1979 System, Structure, and Contradiction in the Evolution of "Asiatic" Social
Formations. National Museum of Copenhagen.

1981 Notes on Structure and History in Oceania. Folk, 23.

1982 Catastrophe and Continuity in Social Evolution. In Theory and Explanation in
Archaeology, ed. Renfrew et al. London.

Friedman, J., and M.J. Rowlands

1977 Notes towards an Epigenetic Model of the Evolution of "Civilization." In The
Evolution of Social Systems, ed. J.Friedman and M.J.Rowlands. London:
Duckworth.

Leleur, A.

1974 Vaginal magt og Kvindeforagt. Manuscript.

1979 Sexes or Chaos: An Essay on the Function of the Sex Boundary in the Social
Order of "Pollution." Folk 21-22:161-194.

Mauss, M.

1980 The Gift.

Murra, J.

1980 The Economic Organization of the Inca State. Greenwich,Conn.: JAI Press.

Rey, P. P.

1971 Colonialisme, neo-colonialisme et transition au capitalisme. Paris: Maspero.

Sahlins, M.

1972 Stone Age Economics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

128 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Review: James F. Weiner
University of Adelaide

Beyond the Possession Principle:
An Energetics of Massim Exchange

From object to possession: Winnicott began his famous study of object rela-
tions with the following words: "I am not specifically studying the first object
of object-relationships. I am concerned with the first possession and with
the intermediate area between the subjective and that which is objectively
perceived" (1971:3). But this is in the way of an origin myth — for the child
never comes innocently to the first possession, the frayed woollen effigy, the
raveling blanket or cloak, the satin border with its pearl shell-like irides-
cence (any more than it comes to the breast, the dala [matrilineal subclan],
the mothers skirt), within all of which it is seen to derive such exquisite,
enfolding tactile pleasure. Such a field of tactile images is already consti-
tuted by a set of signifiers of maternity out of which the mother and the
institutions of motherhood are woven, and which mirror a space of subjec-
tivity of a particular and specific kind to the infant.

The "term transitional object . . . gives room for the process of becoming
able to accept difference and similarity" (ibid.:6). So it is with the inalienable
possession — the first possession is that which authenticates and legitimizes
group identity, that lends it cosmological validity and stability. In providing
an original identity to such a group, it differentiates that group from others.
In the enveloping feathered cloaks and the fraying, much handled banana
leaves, is not Annette Weiner characterizing the first possession, the transi-
tional object that will make possible the accession to sociality?

In the object-relations theory of psychoanalysis as advocated by such
figures as Winnicott and Klein, the ego achieves a sense of itself as a discrete
entity by establishing a boundary between what is part of itself, what be-
longs to it, what it wishes to assimilate or introject, and what is not part of
itself, what it wishes to eject, to see as external to itself. Subjectivity is seen
as a container of objects, or at least the images of such objects, but it is also
defined negatively at the same time, by what it has caused to disappear.

Let me make a case for looking at Inalienable Possessions as a theory, of
sorts, of object relations. This will allow us to contemplate the energetics of
such a system — what drives the subject to discriminate among objects
within such a field, but more importantly, how the presence of such energy
can be measured or ascertained by the absence of objects. It is this last con-
sideration that poses what I see as a dilemma in Annette Weiner s theory of
possessions.

For the source of such energetics, we must first turn to Freud.

Book Review Forum 129

Materialism and the Economy of Difference

Freud's Project for a Scientific Psychology (SE, vol. I)1 was his first attempt
to provide a materialist theory of psychic function. He conceived of the
human psychical apparatus as a system of neurones that store a quantity (Q)
of energy. The neurones arc of two types, those that are not physically
altered by this exposure to energic charging, the perceptual neurones (phi),
and those that arc (psi). The psi neurones display an inertia to such charg-
ing. They always seek to discharge this quantity, to avoid cathexis, to empty
themselves of this flux, "to divest themselves of £>" (SE, 1:296) or resist what
Freud called their own "breaching" (German: Bahnung, literally, the blazing
or breaking of a path. Balm). In the giving off of Q, in this resistance to it,
the human organism acts: "This discharge represents the primary function
of the nervous system" (ibid.). In the economics of neuronic energy, primary
function refers to the free and spontaneous discharge of cathexis, which
keeps the neural system free from stimulus.

The human organism could theoretically withdraw from external sources
of Q and so maintain the inertia of the neurones in this manner. But it can-
not withdraw from the body's own endogenous source of Q: "These have
their origin in the cells of the body and give rise to the major needs: hunger,
respiration, sexuality" (ibid.: 297). Thus, the nervous system must maintain a
store of quantity (@TJ J2 "sufficient to meet the demand for a specific action"
(ibid.). This function, to maintain a reservoir of bound, as opposed to free,
energy, is the secondary function of the nervous system and it "is made pos-
sible by the assumption of resistances which oppose discharge; and the
structure of the neurones makes it probable that the resistances are all to be
located in the contacts [between one neurone and another] which in this
way assume the value of barriers" (ibid.:298; emphases in original).

The psi neurones have the capacity to retain an imprint or scar of this
contact with Q and "thus afford a possibility of representing memory" (SE
1:299; emphasis in original). Freud referred to Bahnung (translated in the
Standard Edition as "facilitation") as the permanent alteration of "contact-
barriers" in the psi neurones. The alteration allows the contact-barriers to
become "more capable of conduction, less impermeable" (ibid.:300) and
hence more efficient or expeditious in their discharging of Qr\. But it was
also clear to Freud that there must exist differences in the degree of facilita-
tion offered by the neurones. Otherwise, different sensory stimulations
would alter the psi in the same way, and the neurones would present no
accurate record of the particularity of the stimulus ("if facilitation were
everywhere equal, it would not be possible to see why one pathway would
be preferred" [ibid.]). Hence, "memory is represented by the differences in
the facilitations between the psi neurones" (ibid.; emphasis in original).

130 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Thus, memory cannot be represented as a symmetrical relationship
between an external stimulus and internal discharge of Qr\. What is repre-
sented in the neurones is a differential in cathecting resistance to Qr\
("cathexis is here shown to be equivalent, as regards the passage o/Qrj, to
facilitation," [ibid. :3 19]). The repetition of a memory — "that is, its continu-
ing operative power" (ibid.:300) — adds a quantity entirely distinct to the
quantity (Qv\) of the stimulus; repetitions act only through the gap that sep-
arates them as distinct. Since the initial breaching, the gap between repeti-
tions and the difference between full quantities cannot be represented as
distinct qualities of stimulus, memory cannot be represented as the storing
of imprints upon the physiology of the nervous system. "[Facilitation] can-
not have its basis in a cathexis that is held back, for that would not produce
the differences in facilitations of the contact-barriers of the same neurone"
(ibid.:301).

If the quality of a stimulus can only be created as a result of differential in
facilitation, which comes first, then, the stimulus or the differences in resis-
tances that allow the stimulus to be facilitated as memory? In considering
this apparent paradox created by Freud's hypothetical neuronic landscape,
Jacques Derrida concludes: "repetition does not happen to an initial impres-
sion; its possibility is already there, in the resistance offered the first time by
the psychical neurones (1978:202; emphasis in original). Derrida observes
that right at the moment of origin of Freud's neuronal system, memory is
based on the differences between the traces, rather than the traces them-
selves. "Trace as memory is not a pure breaching that might be reappropri-
ated at any time as simple presence; it is rather the ungraspable and invisible
difference between breaches" (Derrida 1978:201).

The phrasing of the human perceptual and cognitive mechanism as an econ-
omy of energy invokes some of our most perduring modern Western images
of power and value, including the quantifiability of information, its value as
unit of meaning and transaction, and the pleasure-pain principle of maxi-
mization of satisfaction that Freud was to elaborate upon (and ultimately
reject) later in his career. These same Western images, and the same
attempts to subject them to critical scrutiny, pervade the history of all West-
ern behavioral sciences. What I would like to do in this comment is nothing
as facile as suggest a "psychoanalytic" interpretation of Inalienable Posses-
sions. I begin rather with a view of sociality as a nexus of relays, paths, and
connections between people and objects, and of the energy — productive,
psychic, symbolic, or otherwise — that propels, diverts, delays, and reroutes
people and objects along such paths. Autonomy and stability, and the sub-

Book Review Forum 132

jectivity that actors attribute to themselves, are perceptions that arise, after
the fact for the most part, within this hodographic arena. They are interpre-
tational moments that provide the perspective necessary for the gauging of
the system s limits and efficacy. There is, in other words, a meeting ground, a
switching point, here between economics and hermeneutics. I am proposing
that both Freud and Annette Weiner (and by implication, psychoanalysis
and anthropology more generally) share an interest in a materialist descrip-
tion of human behavior at some level, and that the reasons why Freud
ultimately cast doubt upon and reformulated his materialism might be illu-
minating in this exercise.

With its language of paths, diversions, delays, facilitations, and resistance,
Trobriand exchange could well be an expanded version of Freud's neuro-
hodography The French term for the German Bahnung, "facilitation," is
froyage. Jeffrey Mehlman, who first translated Derridas article "Freud and
the Scene of Writing," rendered this as "fraying" (1972). But Alan Bass, who
later translated the same article for the collection Writing and Difference
(1978), discarded "fraying" in favor of "breaching" because frayage "has
an idiomatic connection to pathbreaking in the expression, se frayer un
chemin" (in Derrida 1978:329n.2). But here I prefer to retain the idea of the
fraying of a path, as well as something that opposes that fraying, a binding of
energies and messages, a bunching and clogging of objects along a pathway
that always threatens to block off the space that fraying creates and that pro-
vides the differentiation between alternative routes.

These roads are defined by the traffic of objects and people that keeps
them open, the breaches that form them — but do the paths themselves get
wider and more free-flowing as the traffic gets heavier and more frequent?
Do repetitions alter the amount of differential of cathexis? The recipients at
the ends of these paths facilitate them by eliciting prestations. While other
paths, if not used, become overgrown or covered over with forest matter and
eventually disappear altogether — what then is the Massim world if not a vast
array of cathecting pathways along which the tokens of productive energy
are dissipated, pooled, protected, and controlled? (And we should recognize
that the islands in the kula chain are linked to each other along efferent and
afferent pathways that, like human neurones, are all given at birth — no
additional paths are created in the organisms life, only a change in the dif-
ferential charging along existing paths ["participation in kula does not lead
to the creation of anything new except what is already in the system"
(Weiner 1983:165)].) It seeks always to maintain a constant level of socio-
political energic charge by rerouting valuables along different paths, thereby

132 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

protecting the paths from overload. (However, the internal system is capable
of spontaneous regeneration: "In order to maintain the regeneration of
new resource potential via [exchange] relationships, the accumulation of
women's wealth, and dala property, new yams must be grown every year"
[ibid.: 156] — although we should probably read this in reverse: exchange
serves to cathect endogenous, internal productive stimulation, to keep the
"primary" function fully discharged.) In the external system, however, "sta-
bility remains a problem. ... If high-ranking shells are diverted from one
path to another, the shells' names are changed and their former histories
lost" (p. 140). The strategy thereby becomes to use the external system, un-
affected by magnitude of Qx\, as a reservoir to siphon off excess charging
from the "internal" system. "Keeping a kula shell out of [internal] exchange
because it is promised in kula allows a person to store wealth in the face of
other social and political obligations" (p. 145); "the assignment of the shell
to kula may protect it from loss in internal exchanges" (p. 145). The external
system is thus capable of homeostatic regulation: "a path may become so
encumbered with even one player's switches that the other partners decide
to let the path 'die' " (p. 142).

Some paths afford better possibilities for replication. How are the differ-
ential qualities of the various paths established? What is it that ordains that
some shall flourish and get wide and muddy with use, while others dry up
and disappear? One answer would be that it is the different characters
involved, the different capacities of individuals to persuade, elicit, and com-
pel others. But does this solution not appeal to the idea of sociality emerging
from an assumed state of originary nonsociality, a connection being posed
between two hitherto unconnected people, making of the exchange the
"innovative, inaugurative relationship which 'creates,' " as David Schneider
characterized it (1965:58)? Is it not dependent upon the clear distinction
between personal traits of individuals upon which social differences are
based but which are logically and developmentally prior to them?

If we are thus compelled to discard the Western notion of the presocial
individual, if the self-interested self finds no descriptive currency in the
Massim area, what then is our strategy? What if we were to now see our
analysis of Melanesian exchange as also dependent upon a preexistent dif-
ferentiation of value? What if the objects of such exchange were not valu-
able because of their representational power but because of their ability to
defer, to temporize — that is, to articulate such spacing within which the sub-
jectivity necessary to the articulation of social action becomes possible? ("It
takes years of work to convince the player to release the shell and this neces-
sitates having many other shells to move along this particular path" [p. 141].)
What if such delay was not an accidental and fortuitous breakdown in the

Book Review Forum 133

system of exchange but the very integral heart of the temporizing effects by
which this system acquires its efficacy?

The exchange is not inaugural or originary; it is always a repetition of an
already-existing social differential. The differential, the other, is there at the
beginning. The kula player never merely gives one shell to one player: "The
other players who vied for the chance to exchange receive only a return shell
for the vaga each one gave the owner" (p. 142). But how much more forceful
that description is if we remove the unnecessary word "only." "In these latter
cases, reciprocity is used to reject a person. Giving a vaga shell and quickly
receiving a return denotes an end to further advances; no kula path for the
large shell has been opened" (p. 142). (But what is the precise negative
value of rejection in this case, in this system in which nothing can be added
or subtracted but only momentarily repressed or delayed?) In other words,
there is no kula without a deferral, a spacing; no kula without a differential
in the timing of response, between immediate and delayed; no kula without
the debt, the hysteresis, that creates the temporal interval of the gift (see
Battaglia 1990:76). There can be no simple mapping of magnitude of ex-
change, or enumerated replications of exchange items onto a corresponding
proportion of political or social capital. Such a view would demand that the
objects themselves maintain fixed values within a hierarchy of values.

No origin without prevening differentiation, no appeal to the ex nihilo,
the something-out-of-nothing — and yet is this not what Annette Weiners
view of exchange demands? ("In the process of the attachment and separa-
tion of artifacts during life, individuals are attracted into relationships, but
adverse individual desires and finally death disrupt the continuity" [Weiner
1976:23].) In this view of human sociality, the self is unitary, inviolable. The
fact that she accords centrality to the struggle for autonomy in all human
societies attests to the necessity to assume such internal unity of the self and
its stability through time. The objects manipulated by such selves, on the
other hand, always run the risk of becoming alienated from such selves. In
the struggle to articulate and retain autonomy, this alienation is resisted by
selves. But why do these selves care whether such objects become alienated,
if the integrity of the self is not affected by their loss? Because the objects,
being something outside the self, allow for a more expanded form of self-
permanence, a stability of self that, in being handed down across genera-
tions, outlives the self.

In such a view, connectivity becomes a problem, becomes difficult, and
under such conditions, a culture looks to symbolize the fragility of the social
fabric. And so Annette Weiner suggests that "the very physicality of cloth, its
woven-ness, and its potential for fraying and unraveling denote the vulner-
ability in acts of connectedness and tying, in human and cultural reproduc-

134 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

tion, and in decay and death" (p. 59). But the problem for the Trobrianders
is not the fragility of connectedness, but its tendency to overcathect, its
tenacity and demand — a system of productive consumption that is the inter-
nal, endogenous source of stimulation. No doubt, the characteristic delays
in the reclaiming of dala land from mens sons who are not dala members
(Weiner 1976:159) are the Trobriand productive systems most essential fea-
ture. For them, it is how to break connections, how to delay and temporize
demand and desire, how to instigate fraying and dissipation, that is the task
at hand.

The Object of Death

The consideration of energetics introduces a fundamental ambiguity into
the understanding of human behavior: Towards what end do organisms
strive? Towards the ultimate discharge of energy, or to the maintenance of it
at a constant level? What Freud identified as the repetition compulsion
seemed, by his description, to both create psychic tension and provide the
mechanism of its release at one and the same time. In considering the repe-
tition compulsion, the replication of unpleasant experiences, Freud hypoth-
esized that there was a drive, a pulsion beyond the pleasure principle, more
conservative than it, a drive in which the organism attempts "to restore
an earlier state of things" (SE, vol. 18; Penguin Freud Library, 11:308). The
quality of the external world, however, is such that it always works to disturb
this drive, to cause delays and diversions on its path towards dissociation.

Every modification which is thus imposed upon the course of the
organisms life is accepted by the conservative organic [drives] and
stored up for further repetition. Those [drives] are therefore bound
to give a deceptive appearance of being forces tending towards
change and progress, whilst in fact they are merely seeking to reach
an ancient goal by paths old and new alike. (Ibid.:310)

This was Freud's concept of the death drive (Todestrieb) and I would like
to suggest that because of the implied energetics of her model, there is a
central role for it in Annette Weiner s theory too. Freud's formulation of the
death drive seems, from a social-science perspective, to confound our
received intuition. We feel that sociality is fragile, that the entropic forces of
the external world introduce instability to social relations, that these rela-
tions must constantly be repaired and revitalized, constantly recathected, to
remain viable. But what the "death drive" asks us to consider, phrased in

Book Review Forum 135

anthropological terms, is something altogether opposite: What if the dissolu-
tion or end of relationship was difficult to attain; what if the external world
constantly worked towards delaying the dissipation of the social self, con-
stantly introduced detours in the attainment of its death? In the Massim, the
dissociation of the person leads not to a cessation or diminution of the
deceased but rather a redistribution of the aspects of a person that reside in
others. The conservative tendency of Massim exchange is to always seek to
return the subjectivity, autonomy, and power of the person to its constitu-
ents, to other persons. "The social person of the deceased (the aspect of a
person that participates in the personae of others) is not diminished but
expanded to the limits of his or her social circle" (Wagner 1986:267). As a
result of continuous acts of such local expansion throughout the kula region,
the regional flow of kula valuables evince a pulsing, a diastemic delay
caused by the diversion of valuables into local island economies of death and
mourning.

It is clear, thanks to Annette Weiners meticulous ethnography, that as
was the case with Freud's topography, Massim exchange demonstrates that
we cannot "immobilize and freeze energy within a naive metaphorics of
space" (Derrida 1978:212). Social and political value can never be reposited
within objects or structures; it emerges between them, in the space where a
differential facilitation and resistance of objects is to be found, a space that
is as much a function of the perception of meaning as is language, or a myth,
or the beauty, power, and efficacy of a canoe prow. Further, the structure of
delay, of deferral, of Nachtraglichkeit that is the essential feature of kula
means that value cannot be similarly reposited within accretable units of
time; it prevents us from subjecting the kula to the dead hand of economics.
The valuables create their own timing, their own retroactive historical credi-
tation, and the death they work towards is that which creates the very con-
duits of life energy.

Weiners inalienable possession, which stands opposed to the moving gift
of reciprocity theory, doesn't so much retain movement as divest itself of it.
The more it travels, the more weighty, ponderous, and immovable it
becomes, until it finally comes to rest. But it is in that movement that social-
ity creates its own rhythms and spacings, its own potential for differen-
tiation— difference, as Freud observed, cannot be reposited in held-back,
inalienable quantity. The inalienable object, insofar as it thus spells the
death of sociality, could only be a hypothetical or imaginary limit to a social
world, rather than a literal or material counterweight or anchoring ol it.
What Annette Weiner has shown so masterfully in her writing on Trobriand
exchange is that death is not an accident of social life but the very condi-

136 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

tion toward which people labor, through the deferrals that exchange con-
fers upon their social life. In giving, the death of the object is delayed, and
in that interval created by delay emerges the temporality that enables social
life.

NOTES

1. All references to Freud are taken from the Standard Edition of the Complete Psycho-
logical Works of Sigmund Freud, translated by James Strachey (London: The Hogarth
Press and the Institute for Psycho-Analysis), and the Penguin Freud Library.

2. Q is generalized quantity of excitation; Qr\ is quantity of intercellular discharge of
energy.

REFERENCES CITED

Battaglia, D.

1990 On the Bones of the Serpent: Person, Memory, and Mortality in Saharl Island
Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Derrida, J.

1978 Freud and the Scene of Writing. In Writing and Difference, 196-231. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.

Freud, S.

1950 Project for a Scientific Psychology. In The Standard Edition of the Complete
Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, trans. James Strachey vol. 1, pp. 282-
397. London: The Hogarth Press and the Institute for Psycho-Analysis.

1955 Beyond the Pleasure Principle. In The Standard Edition of the Complete Psy-
chological Works of Sigmund freud, trans. James Strachey, vol. 18, pp. 1-64.
London: The Hogarth Press and the Institute for Psycho-Analysis.

Mehlman, J.

1972 Jacques Derrida: Introductory Note. Yale French Studies 48:73.

Schneider, D.

1965 Some Muddles in the Models: Or, How the System Really Works. In The Rele-
vance of Models for Social Anthropology, ed. M. Banton, 25-85. Association of
Social Anthropologists Monograph, no. 1. London: Tavistock.

Strathern, M.

1988 The Gender of the Gift. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Wagner, R.

1986 The Exchange Context of the Kula. In Death Rituals and Life in the Societies of
the Kula Ring, ed. F. Damon and R. Wagner. DeKalb: Northern Illinois Univer-
sity Press.

Book Review Forum 137

Weiner, A.

1976 Women of Value, Men of Renown. Austin: University of Texas Press.

1983 "A World of Made Is Not a World of Born": Doing Kula in Kiriwina. In The
Kula, ed. by J. Leach and E. Leach, 147-170. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press.

Winnicott, D.

1971 Playing and Reality, London: Tavistock.

Response: Annette B. Weiner
New York University

Possessions and Persons

These stimulating reviews of Inalienable Possessions accomplish what I
hoped my book would elicit: an ongoing dialogue on new ways of thinking
about exchange, gender, kinship, and the role of possessions in human life. I
call Inalienable Possessions an "experiment" because, in working compara-
tively, I use forms of ethnographic description and interpretation that begin
with a society's paradoxes rather than with a society's "norms." My interest is
in how social and political systems turn in upon themselves, thereby limiting
the degree of hierarchy that might be possible.

What I discovered early on was how easy it is to think about ethnographic
comparisons and social theory when one only has to contend with men's
actions and beliefs. But once one includes women — in biological and cul-
tural reproduction, in the production of essential wealth, and in their control
over cosmological resources — paradoxes and contradictions abound. Work-
ing within these paradoxes, we are much closer to the dynamics of social
action and beliefs than we are when women are ignored or described in neg-
ative terms that can be discounted by the "real" world of men's actions.
What is powerful about women's presence in social life, however, is that in
both ethnographic and theoretical studies, the recognition of women's
reproductive and productive force takes us to the heart of a society's most
perplexing and enigmatic problems. Although these problems can be fruit-
fully compared from one society to another, the comparisons will rarely have
the simple elegance that for so long has been the accepted hallmark of theo-
retical accountability.

Marc Auge's review clearly exposes this problem when he argues that
unlike the Pacific, where women's reproductive and productive roles are sig-
nificant, in the West African societies with which he is familiar women do
not have a role in cloth production because men are the weavers. Yet

138 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

women's productive activities are more complex that Auge recognizes. What
is significant about cloth throughout the world is its long and detailed pro-
duction process: from the growing and harvesting of the raw materials to the
dyeing, weaving, and decoration of the finished product, as well as its circu-
lation. Although women may not always be the weavers, they may contrib-
ute in important ways to the production process, even controlling the tech-
nical and cosmological knowledge essential for creating the most sacred
textiles. For example, among the Yoruba, men produce cloths used in their
initiation rituals, but women produce cloths associated more generally with
reproduction, ancestors, and sacred powers. In other West African cases,
women spin the cotton that provides the material for men to weave. Con-
versely, in some Central African societies such as the Kuba, men may be
the weavers of raffia cloth, but women are responsible for the elaborate
applique embroidery that gives the cloth its value. And in the Lele case,
although men do all the weaving, women control some of the most impor-
tant exchanges of the finest cloths.

Although high-ranking Asante women may not be actively involved in
cloth production, they control, as Auge points out, the inalienable posses-
sions that bestow legitimacy on rulers. My point, however, is that retention
— the keeping of inalienable possessions — must be considered part of the
production process because keeping is as significant in economic and repro-
ductive terms as circulation or giving. Further, these women, as the most
esteemed and high-ranking mothers or sisters, were historically powerful in
their own right — not necessarily, as Auge would have it — simply because
they are "older, beyond menopause and thus outside the sphere of biological
reproduction." Wilks (1975) gives numerous examples of Asante "queen"
mothers and sisters who, even at young ages, wield supreme authority
over land ownership and succession rights, conduct diplomatic encounters
with competing rulers and European officials, and who at times also became
autonomous rulers in their own right. Finally, Asante women as queen
mothers provide political support for their own sons as regents while they
also foster the critical political connections between a high-ranking son and
his sister. This is what I mean by cultural reproduction. It is not necessarily
that a sisters own children become the heirs to the throne, but that the
relationship between a mans child as a possible successor and his sister is
critical. It is exactly at the point where succession stops — where women do
not biologically reproduce the next heir — that the particular reproductive
system turns in on itself and its limitations are exposed.

Articulating these limitations was my goal in the discussion oikula, where
a surrogate chieftaincy is established in which men gain legitimacy in their
efforts to be local leaders from their participation in kula. The presence of

Book Review Forum 139

TVobriand chiefs enhances other players' chiefly identity, giving them a con-
nection with rank that legitimates their authority in their own chiefless soci-
eties. This view complements Maria Lepowsky's discussion of the interisland
skull exchanges that took place in the Massim a hundred or more years ago.
The movement from bones to shell exchanges in the Massim has counter-
parts elsewhere, for example, among the Maori and the Kwakiutl. The prob-
lem I see in Lepowsky's insightful analysis is her conclusion that "ritualized
and aggressive" competition differs causally from the validation of differ-
ence, rank, and authority. Clearly, warfare and competition are about cul-
tural and political difference. These goals and actions cannot be easily sepa-
rated into primary and secondary causes. Further, in kula exchange as we
know it today the introduction of many lower-ranking shells has allowed the
most well-known kula players to hold the highest-ranking shells for a long
period of time. Kula has always been a changing phenomenon and undoubt-
edly will continue to be so, but its limitation in terms of developing rank and
hierarchy is the loss of ancestral identities in the shells that validate rank at
the local level for a lineage or clan. My argument is that kula is an attempt
to recreate rank at a regional level, which Lepowsky's examples of warfare
certainly support.

This point is important in considering James Weiner's cogent essay pro-
posing an energetics of Massim exchange based on psychoanalytic theories.
For James Weiner, sociality is "a nexus of relays, paths, and connections
between people and objects, and . . . the energy — productive, psychic, sym-
bolic, or otherwise — that propels, diverts, delays, and reroutes people and
objects along such paths." The Massim world of kula is "a vast array of
cathecting pathways along which the tokens of productive energy are dissi-
pated, pooled, protected, and controlled." Following Freud and Derrida,
James Weiner proposes that these tokens — the kula shells — are "not valu-
able because of their representational power but because of their ability to
defer, to temporize — that is, to articulate such spacing within which the sub-
jectivity necessary to the articulation of social action becomes possible."

Yet I am left puzzled by several points. James Weiner writes as if kula
exchange were a closed system and he cites my comment that "participation
in kula does not lead to the creation of anything new except what is already
in the system." My context for this statement was not as a description of an
immutable exchange system but regarding the inability for the kula system
to develop more complex hierarchical levels or structures of rank. The
dynamics of kula exchange are always producing new paths,, new players,
new partners, new participating islands, new shells, and new substitutes for
shells, such as axeblades, money, or, as we saw in Lepowsky's review, human
bones. Further, kula shells do assume a fixed value within a hierarchy of

140 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

value, if by value we mean the ability of players to categorize and rank shells
within an agreed-upon system of value. Thus, there is more here than the
"something-out-of-nothing" that James Weiner says my exchange demands.

James Weiner further argues that it is not the fragility of connectivity that
is a problem for Trobrianders, as I expressed it, but the tendency for the
system to "overcathect" and therefore delays in giving shells, temporizing
the demands of one's partners, and personal desire are logically prior to
other phenomena. At this point I think our differences are more apparent
than real. In my view of sociality, I am not putting forward the claim that the
"self is unitary, inviolable" as he states. In my earlier Trobriand work, I
showed the way individuals are socially created by others. A persons name,
beauty, knowledge, magic, land, yams, kula shells, and decorations signifying
rank — all in varying degrees are loaded onto each self. With each thing
given, there are unending obligations — the overcathecting part — but each
thing can be lost. A person stops using her higher-ranking name or decora-
tions out of fear of others; the spells given are bogus; the land is forever in
dispute. This is the reason that Trobrianders do care about alienation —
because "the integrity of the self," contra James Weiner, is deeply affected
by the loss of possessions.

The delay that James Weiner envisions as the source or the origin of
exchange obviously is significant. But in his model, following Derrida, does
delay allow for differentiation? I would argue that it is keeping that is logi-
cally prior. For keeping allows for the differentiation of the self, as the self is
expanded by the possession of objects that give the self a history — a past,
present, and future. This is what both kula and local exchange accomplish,
but the difference between the two is critical. In local exchange the self is
being built up (and at death taken apart) by objects that signify not only the
self, but the group. These possessions give far more weightiness to social
identity that the histories of individual exploits that are lodged in kula shells.

Whatever conclusions the reader draws from James Weiner's essay, his
ideas are indeed provocative and certainly give us much to consider, as do
Auge's and Lepowskys comments. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for
Friedman's review, which is arrogant and plagued with patriarchal theories
of alliance, structuralism, and plain old-fashioned male dominance. As I said
at the beginning of my rejoinder, paradox and contradiction make some
people decidedly uncomfortable, especially those who continue to construct
simplistically their theoretical positions on male-oriented conceptions of
society and culture.

To start with, Friedman unequivocally pronounces that inalienability as a
"possessive desire" is "our [my] category and not theirs, not unless otherwise
demonstrated." Throughout Inalienable Possessions I give example upon

Book Review Forum 141

example of how people desire these specific objects — how they cry and fight
over them, mourn their loss, die for them, surround them with all kinds of
rituals, treat their presence with the utmost care and the knowledge associ-
ated with them (such as their histories) with great secrecy. Surely, this is
"possessive desire." If inalienable possessions exist because / gave them that
gloss, then are we to discount what our informants tell us? If the paradox of
keeping-while-giving appears so trivial to Friedman, then why all this fuss
over pieces of stone, bone, or cloth? Since Inalienable Possessions was pub-
lished, I have had letters from colleagues, telling me that they had informa-
tion about such valuables, but they did not know how to explain them within
traditional exchange theory. Others said that only after questioning their
informants about such inalienable possessions did their informants then
reveal their hidden caches of such valuables.

When Friedman talks about the productive role of women, he would do
well to read more carefully the ethnographies and historical materials that
describe the political power that women once had, for example, in the
Andean region (to which Friedman refers), where some women had local
political authority and owned land in their own right, prior to the rise of the
Inca state and Western colonization (see, e.g., Silverblatt 1987). As Jane
Schneider and I pointed out in Cloth and Human Experience (1989), the
breakthrough to capitalism challenged cloth as a medium of social power
throughout the world and undermined the power that women had in the
productive process as well as in the exchange of these objects. But the eth-
nographic and historical data are complex and must be sifted through care-
fully. They cannot be reduced to polemics that eliminate the domain of
women's control both in production and exchange.

Further, I have not argued that because women produce cloth, they then
have power. What I show is how, in many cases, production gave women
partial or full control over retention and circulation. Often this control
involved the highest-ranking cloths. And production involved cosmology.
Women's controls over ancestral and other cosmological powers were in-
vested in aspects of cloth production — from the spinning or dyeing or weav-
ing to other decorative applications. Cosmology exists first in the knowl-
edge people believe themselves to have. Such knowledge then is transferred
through production to symbolic representations in cloth as well as other
kinds of possessions. When these objects are kept or exchanged, the cosmol-
ogy represented by them increases their value and thus, contra Friedman's
argument, cosmology enters exchange. And nowhere in my book did I make
the claim that cloth was the only inalienable possession. I repeatedly called
attention to the importance of bone, stone, shell, and other objects worked
by men and defined by them as inalienable.

142 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Finally, Friedman completely misrepresents my discussion of Polynesian
women rulers. My point is not that women can become chiefs because they
are women, as Friedman states my position, but that rank overrides gender
in these cases. Friedman, however, believes that rank is "very often depen-
dent upon the male warrior chiefs in their [women's] own groups." What he
ignores, as do so many others, is that women were also "warrior chiefs" and
that in many cases mens rank was dependent on women. This is why the
brother-sister connection (cultural as well as incestual) is so vital.

Fortunately, there are some interesting points of discussion in Friedman's
polemic, especially a further development of a theory of possession. But
such a chauvinistic, and at times inaccurate, diatribe does nothing to further
our understandings of these complex issues. The time is long past when
scholars can banish women to the sidelines of political action by theoreti-
cally holding to simple symbolic gender oppositions that define women, if
they are not total controllers of a political system, as totally absent from such
action. This means that we must be prepared to examine the commingling
of symbols and not their gendered separations. Power relations are not sep-
arate from gender relations but are inextricably lodged in the paradoxes that
all societies promote or attempt to overcome.

Significant among those paradoxes is the problem of keeping-while-
giving. The most critical point of my disagreement with Friedman is that he
cannot see that certain objects are about the creation of social identity. This
is the root of inalienable possessions — a fact that Mauss and Simmel made
very clear. Possession of an object, however, does not mean stasis or inactiv-
ity. Just as being relates to becoming, possession must also be characterized
as action. But until recently, social theory directed our attention to the
objects as they are being exchanged — one "gift" given for one received.
What has been missing is the recognition of the actions that are produced
because of keeping an object out of circulation, although it may, at some
future time, be put into circulation. Ownership is much more unstable than
stable. The potential for loss, the need for secrecy and additional wealth,
and the lack of appropriate heirs, all demand action and accountability.
Therefore, the more intense the effort to keep the possession out of circula-
tion, the more determining will be its effect on individual self-identity. As
Simmel pointed out, this is only the reverse of the notion that the owner's
identity is determined by the effect of the possession upon the possessor. As
the objects increase in density, that is, in the cultural and emotional weighti-
ness they assume through their symbolic and economic value, age, and
length of inalienability, the relation between self-identity and the possession
becomes more significant and the differentiation between individuals is
more highly marked. Conversely, as objects decrease in density, the connec-

Book Review Forum 143

tion to the self lessens. Thus a chain is forged from being to possessing
and from possessing to being, making the connection between persons and
objects deeply intimate.

I want to thank the editors for providing such an exceptional forum in
which these important issues are given thoughtful and serious attention
by the reviewers. For me, what has been most rewarding is the breadth of
the reviewers' comments and the many new ideas they developed here. I
believe we are embarking on a new way to conceptualize material culture,
power, and gender and, as these reviews indicate, we need many voices to
effect this change.

REFERENCES CITED

Silverhlatt, Irene

1987 Moon, Sun. and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial
Peru. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Weiner, Annette B., and Jane Schneider

1989 Cloth and Human Experience. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution
Press.

Wilks, Ivor

1975 Asante in the Nineteenth Century. Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press.

REVIEWS

Serge Dunis, Ethnologic d'Hawai'i: "Homme de la petite eau, femme de la
grande can." Paris: Presses Universitaires Creole/L'Harmattan, 1990.
Pp. 379, maps, drawings, bibliography. FF 200.

Reviewed by Ben Finney, University of Hawaii

There IS now a Universite Francaise du Pacifique with two centers sepa-
rated by thousands of miles of open ocean: one in Noumea, New Caledonia,
the other just outside Pape'ete, Tahiti. Teaching at the Tahiti campus is a
most ebullient professor of English language and civilization, Serge Dunis,
whose passion is the anthropology of Polynesia. Dunis has been able to do
his anthropology while teaching languages and civilizations (tightly linked in
the French approach) first in Aotearoa, then in Hawai'i, and now in Tahiti.
Two years in the early 1970s spent teaching French at the University of
Wellington led to his exciting analysis of Maori culture, Sans tabou ni totem
(Paris: Librairie Artheme Fayard, 1984). Ten years ago, while he was teach-
ing French at the Manoa campus of the University of Hawai'i, Dunis rev-
eled in Malo, Kamakau, the Kamulipo, and the other rich sources we have
on Hawaiian culture. The result is the book under review, published when
he was teaching at yet another island nation: Martinique.

At first glance, the organization of "Ethnology of Hawaii" might seem
comfortably prosaic to the Anglophone ethnographer. In the first third of
the book, Dunis builds a foundation with chapters on the geology and geog-
raphy of the chain, on the discovery and colonization of the islands, and on
Hawaiian farming, fishing, domestic architecture, and canoes. Then comes
the meat of the book: an analysis of the hierarchical structure of Hawaiian

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

145

146 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

society and its mythological underpinnings. It soon becomes apparent, how-
ever, that Dunis is not modeling his work on the old Bishop Museum bulle-
tins on Polynesian cultures. This is a very French work done by a scholar
who combines lessons from Levi- Strauss, Godelier, and various psychoana-
lytic masters with his own literary background to provide a brilliantly pro-
vocative analysis of Hawaiian culture. His focus, after due attention to the
material substructure, is on the ideological superstructure of Hawaiian cul-
ture as revealed in the writings of Malo, Kamakau, and other ethnographic
sources, as well as in the creation chant Kumulipo and in mythological tales
such as those of Maui and the demigod Kamapua'a.

To understand Dunis s Marxist-structuralist-psychoanalytic approach, it is
useful to go back to his earlier work on Maori culture cited above. His fasci-
nation there is with incest, hierarchy, and the primordial oedipal situation of
Maori cosmogony. Sky- father (Rangi) and Earth-mother (Papa) remain in
tight embrace, condemning their children, all male, to perpetual imprison-
ment until one of their number, Tane, severs his fathers arms and separates
sky from earth. To initiate human life Tane then proceeds to Te Puke, Earth-
mothers mons veneris, and takes a piece of it to mold a female with whom
he then mates, begetting a daughter. This sets up another round of incest
from which eventually mortal humans appear and multiply, thereafter sym-
bolically reenacting primordial incest by impregnating the land through
agriculture.

Hawaiian cosmogony differs in critical aspects from that of the Maori, as
Dunis explains in his exploration of the evolution of life from coral to high
chiefs presented in the Kumulipo and the adventures of Kamapua'a from
pig sexually rutting in Mother-earth to detumescent fish. His interpretation
remains essentially that of culturally informed Freudianism and structural-
ism and is focused on the male-female chasm (hence the subtitle "man for
the narrow stream, woman for the broad stream," a line from the Kumu-
lipo), in particular on what he calls "royal incest," whereby the ideal mating
for the chiefs was between full siblings. To him, therefore, the essential dif-
ference between Maori and Hawaiian hierarchy revolves around incest.
Whereas the Maori descendants of Tane monopolized power in the ariki
lines gained through primordial incest but thereafter forbidden except sym-
bolically through the insertion of plants into Earth-mother, the Hawaiian
alii promoted the mating of close kin within their class. To Dunis, the
Hawaiian chiefs did not simply derive their power from ancestral gods;
through "royal incest" they could become gods themselves.

Dunis s contribution begs comparison with other recent works on ancient
Hawaiian society, such as the pre-European sections of Linnekin s Women of
Renown and Kame'eleihiwa's Native Land and Foreign Desires, as well as

Reviews 147

Valeri's Kingship and Sacrifice. The different interpretations of Hawaiian
culture reflect both the distinctive approaches of the various authors and
the richness and complexity of that civilization. Perhaps after Dunis has
learned his Tahitian (now intensively taught at the Tahiti campus of the new
French University of the Pacific by Professor Louise Pelzer, who is originally
from Huahine) and delved into the sources on ancient Tahiti, we can expect
yet another distinctively Dunisian interpretation of Polynesian culture.

REFERENCES CITED

Kame'eleihiwa, Lilikala

1992 Native Land and Foreign Desires. Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press.

Linnekin, Jocelyn

1990 Sacred Queens and Women of Consequence. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan
Press.

Valeri, Valerio

1985 Kingship and Sacrifice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Tom Davis (Pa Tuterangi Ariki), Island Boy: An Autobiography. Suva: Insti-
tute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific; Christchurch:
Macmillan Brown Centre for Pacific Studies, University of Canterbury;
Auckland: Centre for Pacific Studies, University of Auckland, 1992.
Pp. 349, illustrations, index.

Reviewed by Rebecca A. Stephenson, University of Guam

Autobiographies come and go. This one will be around for a while. Island
Boy is the tale of a multifaceted and multitalented gentleman. Sir Tom
Davis of the Cook Islands over time has worn many different hats, including
(in no particular order) those of physician, surgeon, master seaman, writer,
illustrator, scientist, scholar, anthropological researcher, statesman, politi-
cian, prime minister, Polynesian high chief, and more. In his recent autobi-
ography, Sir Tom offers readers the opportunity to reflect with him on the
myriad twists and turns his life has taken.

Sir Tom's autobiography is lively throughout and offered with balance,
humor, and considerable self-reflection. There is something in this book for
everyone. You are not particularly interested in a Ranfurly Shield rugby
game? Then how about a precarious sail on board the Mini, when the vessel
was "a very naked lady fighting for her life and ours' (pp. 108-110)? Are

148 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

research studies on physiological adaptation to cold not your favorite topic?
Then would you value some insights into akakino (make bad, i.e., "bad-
mouth") in the context of Cook Islands politics?

The chronological organization of this book helps us to outline the signif-
icant events in the life of Sir Tom. After his childhood and youth in Raro-
tonga ("We were unique in . . . our ability to dance anyone off their feet. It
was a good way to grow up" [p. 9]), he was sent to boarding school in New
Zealand. Homesickness was an initial hurdle ("The new environment and
my having come from an entirely different world, now very far away, made
what might have been a simple homesickness into a desperate longing, over-
laying a feeling of utter loneliness" [p. 11]). His adjustment included learn-
ing to accept the fact that in New Zealand it was not proper to greet people
one passed on the street.

Focused and adaptable, Sir Tom persevered. Although he reports that "I
seemed to get caned every day" at King's College (p. 12), he committed him-
self early on to a particular course requiring advanced study, that of medi-
cine. Medical training in Dunedin, New Zealand, followed in the years of
the depression. "These were the hard years," he notes (pp. 17-24). "In order
to make financial ends meet ... I worked on the roads, in ditches, in the
manure works of Kempthorne and Prosser, on the presses of the wood
stores and the wool dumps and for one short time, I was foreman of the
gang that tar-sealed the Caledonia Grounds Bicycle Race Track."

Upon the completion of medical studies and several medical apprentice-
ship positions in New Zealand, Sir Tom returned to the Cook Islands. In
spite of some difficulties in convincing the resident commissioner to hire
him, Sir Tom took over management of the Cook Islands Government Med-
ical Service. This was a formidable task because considerable upgrading of
the system was needed ("May I see the laboratory please, Matron?" "Sorry,
Doctor, there is no laboratory" [p. 35]). His new position also necessitated
that he be a doctor at sea, sailing for the Northern Cook Islands when medi-
cal emergencies there required his expertise. Some of these events are set
forth in his 1954 book with Lydia Davis titled Doctor to the Islands.

Sir Tom's chronological tale then is set aside in order to discuss in detail
the Polynesians (chapter 4). This chapter is coupled with a lengthy discourse
on a lifelong love of Sir Tom's, namely Polynesian navigation (chapter 5). In
this portion of the book, Sir Tom presents his anthropological insights in a
journalistic manner. He has indicated in other settings as well as in this vol-
ume that he is weary of academics, particularly anthropologists, who are
inclined to question from the outset the anthropological perspectives of
indigenous people who do not have terminal degrees in anthropology. I read
Sir Tom's discourse in these chapters with considerable interest and with a
great deal of regard.

Reviews 149

Sir Tom states that some anthropologists "who had difficulty in believing
what Polynesians told them if it differed from their own ideas . . . were led
up garden paths of their own making." He explains:

The practice [by Polynesians] of changing names of people, islands,
places, canoes and discussing events a millennium apart as though
they were contemporary, makes life difficult for anthropologists,
historians and students alike. This, along with the missionaries'
teaching that Polynesian history was best forgotten, as well as the
disbelief of the mobility of Polynesians on the ocean of his home
[sic], is why the pre-contact history of Polynesia is generally lack-
ing. With these distortions in communications and cultural gaps of
understanding, Polynesians learned to be guarded about what they
said for fear of ridicule. (P. 55)

Sir Tom indicates that the genealogy of his late wife and himself and their
relatives in Eastern Polynesia encompasses 116 generations. How I wish I
knew such details of my own Norwegian forebears!

Picking up the chronological account of his life again in chapter 6, after
some time in medical service to the Cook Islands, Sir Tom departed Raro-
tonga for the Boston area in the United States. His destination was the Har-
vard School of Public Health. Along with earning a Master of Public Health
degree at Harvard, some of Sir Tom's singular experiences in the United
States included being mistaken for Richard Nixon, experiments with mice
that "shivered like crazy," and helping to put a monkey into space for NASA.

Sir Tom's professional training and interests also led him to other projects
in faraway places. Among his unforgettable experiences abroad were ten
days in a solitary Arctic village, severe altitude sickness in the Himalayas,
and overland travel via motorcycle to the Taj Mahal. Sir Tom gives measured
consideration to some of his personal traumas throughout this book. He
shares difficulties in giving up smoking, fighting and beating cancer, and the
challenges of various home, spouse, and family ups and downs.

In 1971, after many years of living overseas, Sir Tom once again returned
home to Rarotonga. People he valued were asking him to stand for political
office. Now comes an especially interesting part of the book, namely Sir
Tom's views of and involvement in the Cook Islands political scene, past and
present. (A 1979 publication titled Cook Islands Politics, edited by Ron
Crocombe, tells of significant political events since the Cook Islands gained
internal self-government from the point of view of many Cook Islanders.)
Sir Tom does not mince words in this section. He names names; he tells
tales. Among the more bizarre episodes of the period is that of Milton
Byrch. However, we do not find here much on Sir Tom's personal views con-

150 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

cerning events in the Cook Islands that drove him from political office. Are
the memories too painful for him to retell in detail in this autobiography?

Island Boy is not Sir Toms first publication. He is the author of over
eighty publications, books as well as scientific articles in such prestigious
journals as the New England Journal of Medicine. References to some of his
writings can be found in the bibliography at the end of Island Boy. Since
Island Boy went to press, Sir Tom has completed another publication, titled
Takitumu, that concerns the oceanic voyaging of early Cook Islanders.
Sir Tom and a few other local men in Rarotonga are currently building
a very large double-hulled canoe called Te-Au-O-Tonga. They will sail it to
the Marquesas Islands in February 1995 to meet the Hawaiian canoes
Hawai'iloa and Hokule'a and traditional canoes from Tahiti and New Zea-
land. To reaffirm the cultural, geographical, and historical ties that connect
these island nations, the five canoes will travel together back to Hawai'i,
with landfall expected in May 1995.

What has Sir Tom not addressed in Island Boy that begs attention? The
topic that immediately comes into my mind is the matter of titles in the
Cook Islands, including traditional titles, the more recently created titles,
and the meaning of titles in the present-day context. Sir Tom does not go
into details about his own title in this volume. The reader cannot help but
wonder to what extent Sir Tom's traditional title has influenced his political
ambitions and fortunes. Elsewhere I have expressed concern with regard to
the matter of titles in the Cook Islands (Stephenson 1991). Mokoroa (1984)
explored the traditional titles of Atiu in the Southern Cooks in a way that
was very informative. But what of Rarotonga, where Sir Tom's title is
housed? Sir Tom does mention status and role in the context of Cook Islands
titles. Regarding his young years, for example, he shares the following: "Our
reception at the dock [on our return to Rarotonga] was a royal one. The
elderly ladies, as was the custom, went down on their knees wailing real
tears onto our feet and wiping them off with their long gray hair. For me it
was a most unnerving and humbling experience" (p. 14). And also, on the
same occasion: "We went to Makea's Palace [in Rarotonga] to be formally
welcomed back and to have morning tea with the Paramount Chief and his
immediate family. The crowd was large and the food was, as was the custom,
abundant. But the seating was just for the immediate family, my mother,
Mary and I, again as was the custom" (p. 14).

In his next publication, Sir Tom is encouraged to set forth his knowledge
concerning the nature of titles and titleholding, both historical and contem-
porary, in the Cook Islands. Such a writing would be a most valuable contri-
bution to our understanding of Cook Islands society.

Modern anthropologists work very closely together with the subjects of

Reviews 151

our research. Key informants of times past now likely serve as co-principal
investigators on our projects. In the course of contemporary fieldwork,
people we encounter are much more than our translators or cheerleaders.
We are reminded of the considerable value of these outsider/insider link-
ages in Pacific Islands anthropological research (see, for example, Kurashina
and Stephenson 1985). In this light, Sir Tom's autobiography merits careful
study and thought.

Autobiographies of senior scholars in anthropology seem to be in vogue
these days (e.g., Cressman 1988; Thompson 1991; and others). Relatively
rare are life histories of and by prominent Pacific Islanders. Island Boy is a
very fine book. It is a significant contribution to contemporary anthropolog-
ical studies of Polynesia, especially with regard to the Cook Islands. Meitaki
tikai koe; good on you, Sir Tom!

REFERENCES CITED

Cressman, Luther

1988 A Golden Journey: Memoirs of an Archaeologist. Salt Lake City: University of
Utah Press.

Crocombe, Ron, ed.

1979 Cook Islands Politics: The Inside Story. Auckland: Polynesian Press.

Davis, T. R. A., and M. L. Davis

1954 Doctor to the Islands. Boston: Atlantic, Little Brown.

Kurashina, Hiro, and Rebecca A. Stephenson

1985 Sacred Stones of Rarotonga: Mapping and Stabilizing Ancient Polynesian Mon-
uments in the Cook Islands. Guam: Micronesian Area Research Center and
Department of Anthropology, University of Guam.

Mokoroa, Paiere

1984 Arataki: Leadership. In Ngatupuna Kautai et al., Atiu: An Island Community,
20-33. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific.

Stephenson, Rebecca A.

1991 Some Aspects of the Ethnohistory of Rarotonga. In Collected Papers of the
Earthwatch Cook Islands Project 1985-1988, ed. Rebecca A. Stephenson and
Hiro Kurashina, 4-34. Guam: Department of Anthropology, University of
Guam.

Thompson, Laura

1991 Beyond The Dream: A Search for Meaning. Guam: Micronesian Area Research
Center, University of Guam.

152 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Maureen Anne MacKenzie, Androgynous Objects: String Bags and Gender
in Central New Guinea. Chur, Switz.: Harwood Academic Publishers,
1991. Pp. xvi, 256, figures, plates, appendixes, bibliography, index.

Reviewed by Terence E. Hays, Rhode Island College

Given the intrinsic glamor of the rituals, ceremonial wealth displays, and
dispute settlements that tend to fill ethnographies of New Guinea peoples,
it may not be surprising that commonplace activities and objects seldom
receive much notice. A case in point is the bilum (Tok Pisin for the looped
string bag). Seemingly ubiquitous, if not truly universal, it is widely appreci-
ated for its utility as a container for transporting almost any conceivable
goods. However, this homely object has been largely ignored by scholars
except when it becomes a thing of beauty, deemed admirable for a distinc-
tive design, the sheer craft involved in its manufacture, or its service as a
badge of group identity — used as such by anthropologists at conventions as
well as by local people mingling at a marketplace.

MacKenzie is surely correct in declaring (p. 21) that "discussion" of the
bilum "has been peripheral to the diverse foci of ethnographic research,"
whether or not for the two reasons she suggests: "Firstly, until recently the
mainstream of anthropological inquiry has not been interested in studies of
technology and material culture; and secondly it has for too long been male-
dominated, focussing almost entirely on what men say and do." In my judg-
ment, the first reason is sufficient; not only does the second entail an
unresolvable debate, but with regard to the bilum, as MacKenzie acknowl-
edges (pp. 108-109; emphasis in original), "in other bilum looping cultures
throughout PNG [Papua New Guinea], women are not solely responsible
for all looping techniques." Moreover, among the Telefol people upon
whom her book concentrates, "while women monopolise looping technology
and generate the principal form men take the bags produced by women as
their 'raw material' creating types of bags which are differentiated from the
female product by the additional features [especially bird feathers] which
they apply" (p. 111). The bilum thus figures prominently in "production in
the male realm" (chapter 4) and especially in male ritual activities. It seems
likely, then, that Telefol string bags have been ignored until now by other
Mountain Ok researchers (not all of whom have been male) because eth-
nographers tend to ignore such things, at least in their scholarly writings.

In any case, in Androgynous Objects we have a convincing demonstration
of what and how much we have been missing, although production of a work
as impressive as this one requires more than a simple resolve to pay atten-

Reviews 153

tion to "material culture." MacKenzies arts background combined with
postgraduate training in anthropology at the Australian National University
under the tutelage of the late doyen of New Guinea art, Anthony Forge, no
doubt were essential ingredients in the process. On the basis of fieldwork in
the 1980s, including considerable "hands-on" experience and subsequent
study of museum collections, her "intention is to show how analysis of an
item of material culture as a complete social object can be of significant
interest to the wider anthropological endeavour" (p. 1; emphasis added).

Perceiving "a need, in the study of material culture, for an analytic frame-
work which can overcome the emphasis on either function, form or meaning
and present more than a reductive partial view" (p. 24), MacKenzie opts to
take a

processual approach to the study of artefacts, and investigate the
contexts and processes of manufacture, the ways in which the string
bag is variously used and understood within differing social con-
texts, and the interrelated dimensions of value which this artefact
has for the Telefol people. The focus of this study therefore pro-
gresses beyond a material inventory of forms to an understanding
of the changing nature of objects within different social contexts.
This in turn leads to a broader understanding of the complexity and
ambiguity inherent in Telefol gender relations. (P. 1)

The result is indeed a portrayal of a "complete social object."

"Function" and "form" are presented in wondrous detail, with 25 figures
and 125 plates complementing MacKenzies painstaking and lucid descrip-
tion of the processes by which Telefol women, using only their fingers and a
simple "tool" (a strip of pandanus leaf), transform natural fibers (plus, now-
adays, woolen yarns and nylon thread) into what she calls the "principal
form" of the bilum. The standard, everyday string bag — a product of
"between 100 and 160 hours of productive labour" (p. 83) — has clear utili-
tarian value as a carryall, but in addition a "good bilum enhances the appear-
ance of the carrier, and is essential for a walk to market, into town or a trip to
another area to impress onlookers" (p. 133). Also, and perhaps more impor-
tant to Mac-Kenzie s thesis,

When a woman wears her finest looped bilum it does more than
enhance her appearance. It simultaneously displays her looping
skills, and thus indirectly advertises her productive capabilities by
indicating the care and energy she is likely to invest in all her activ-

154 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

ities. A well-made bilum must belong to a caring woman who
knows how to work hard. Thus, for the Telefol, a good bilum is syn-
onymous with a good woman. (P. 141)

More than "productivity" is symbolized by a well-made bilum, according to
MacKenzie, since "the bilum becomes above all a symbol of nurturance and
procreativity" (p. 146), reflected in a male informants statement that "the
bilum is our mother."

In what sense, then, is a bilum the "androgynous object" of the book's
title? MacKenzie s main interpretive argument is that "motherhood in Tele-
folmin is not simply bearing children. It is a question of continuous, protec-
tive care and nurturance," activities in which both sexes are involved, just as
"completion of the bag involves the reciprocal and complementary efforts of
both women and men" (p. 147). Thus the bilum is a product of "multiple
authorship" (p. 158), attributable to neither sex alone.

MacKenzie weaves together various strands of evidence, though not
seamlessly, to advance her view of the meaning of the Telefol string bag.
"Multiple authorship" of the "principal form" of the bilum seems somewhat
tenuously based: a product of women's exclusive knowledge of looping tech-
niques and their arduous labor, such a bag's "completion" involves men only
to the extent that "traditionally, women relied on men for the preferred bast
fibres" (p. 192), obtained from the forest or through trade. A better case is
made for the "elaborated forms," produced by men using bags received as
gifts from kinswomen, to which are added bird feathers in the secrecy and
privacy of the men's house, where they also will be bestowed upon younger
males in ritual contexts, to be used afterward in everyday life. Men say "that
their elaborations augment and improve the principal form by increasing its
practical efficiency, for the feathers make their elaborated bilums water-
proof," but MacKenzie regards this claim as "an essentially evasive state-
ment" (p. 162), masking the "functional value of concealment which the
feathers provide," for example, hiding meat whose revelation would require
sharing (p. 167). While, exemplifying a general theme in Telefol society, "the
outer appearance of the bird feather bilum overtly reflects a model of sexual
opposition and separation, and within male discourse the superior position
of the feathers is seen as an analogue of male superiority and women's struc-
tural inferiority," MacKenzie stresses its manifestation of complementarity,
for "neither woman nor man can make their part without the contribution of
the other" (p. 192). Not only is the "principal form" of the bag a product of
female labor, but a particular woman's "authorship" is acknowledged contin-
ually, since "the bilum is invariably thought of in terms of who made it, for
whom, and on what occasion" (p. 151). That is, whatever embellishments

Reviews 155

may be added to the bag, everyone knows that the male elaborator is depen-
dent on the gift-giving generosity as well as the hard work of a woman. Thus
the elaborated bilum "cannot be exclusively identified with either producer
or recipient, woman or man. A metonym of the relation between women
and men, it is recognised as a product of multiple authorship" (p. 160;
emphasis in original).

It is unclear to what degree MacKenzies interpretations are shared by
Telefol themselves, since she tends to adduce direct statements by infor-
mants only to qualify or refute them from her wider, schooled perspectives.
The results are not always consistent; for example, the "androgynous" bilum
is "a specifically uterine symbol" (p. 177) (as in "the bilum is our mother"?),
yet the term men, which applies to both string bags and looping techniques
and processes, "is not extended to refer to natural objects such as the marsu-
pial pouch . . . nor the human placenta or womb" (p. 45).

Interpretive sleight-of-hand is common in ethnography and, so far as the
Telefol and their Mountain Ok neighbors are concerned, preferred analytic
frameworks have tended to privilege male rhetoric and ideology associated
with male cults, both of which often resonate poorly with everyday life.
MacKenzies focus on the quotidian provides an important, if still debatable,
alternative view:

The separation and antithesis of the sexes is publicly expressed in
the physical divisions of the village realm, and enforced by the male
cult and the way in which women are artificially kept apart from
some of the activities of men. Nevertheless, couples of women and
men form the closest unit of cooperation in daily life. . . . The ideal
situation is said by both sexes to be when women use their aam bal
men ["principal form" string bag] to harvest taro and men recipro-
cate by using their bird feather bilum to bag game meat. It is the
combination or integration of their respective contributions which
provides the perfect meal. (P. 203; emphasis added)

156 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Vincent Lebot, Mark Merlin, and Lamont Lindstrom, Kava: The Pacific
Drug. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993. Pp. 255, maps, figures,
tables, photos, appendixes, bibliography, index. US$45.

Reviewed by Glenn Petersen, Graduate School and Baruch College, City
University of New York

Kava has finally begun to receive some of the same respect from scholars
that Pacific peoples have long paid it. Use of this mild drug was once
common across a vast portion of Melanesia, Polynesia, and Micronesia;
today its distribution has been somewhat circumscribed, but it retains a vital
role in many island societies. And now the literature on its use (and abuse) is
beginning not only to consider its traditional roles, but also to address the
reasons for its dramatic survival and even efflorescence.

This volume makes up part of what we might look upon as a trilogy
of comparative works on kava. Ron Bruntons The Abandoned Narcotic
(1989) took up an old thesis of W. H. R. Rivers concerning the rather com-
plementary distribution of kava and betel in Melanesia, and provided an
updated account of kava organized around a set of theoretical problems. A
special issue of Canberra Anthropology devoted to kava is about to appear;
it comprises a number of essays originally presented at the 1991 Pacific Sci-
ence Congress in a session on "Kava and Power" organized by Nancy Pol-
lock. Along with these other volumes, then, Kava: The Pacific Drug dem-
onstrates a resurgent interest in one of the Pacific islands' more important
shared cultural traits. (In addition, recent volumes edited by L. Lindstrom
[1987] and by J. Prescott and G. McCall [1988] include significant studies of
kava.)

Lebot and Merlin, biologists, and Lindstrom, an anthropologist, have
done an extraordinary job of weaving together research in the many realms
across which a comprehensive study of kava must reach: biochemical, agro-
nomic, ethnological, and sociological. The book is exceptionally well con-
ceived and well executed; the illustrations, photographs, and maps are of
consistently high quality, and the tables are easily interpreted. If this volume
is not utterly seamless, it nevertheless manages to make chemical analyses
and mythological exegeses accessible to the same readers, no mean feat.
Careful examination of both the kava plant s wild precursors and the zymo-
types (proteins) of modern cultivars enables the authors to arrive at one
of their strongest conclusions: kava (Piper methysticum) was most likely
domesticated roughly three thousand years ago from a wild precursor
(P. wichmannii) in what is now northern Vanuatu, whence it diffused as far

Reviews 157

west as New Guinea, as far northwest as the Eastern Carolines, and as far
north and east as Hawai'i and the Marquesas.

Even though there is enormous local variation in the ways in which kava
has traditionally been treated and used, as this work amply documents, it is,
nevertheless, consistently regarded as a source of considerable spiritual
power. It is diligently cultivated, ritually prepared, and respectfully con-
sumed wherever people still rely upon it. It is consistently employed in
social contexts, even as its direct effects are on the physiology of individuals.
"Kava consumption evokes feelings of camaraderie — an emotional response
that symbolizes within a drinkers body the strength of ongoing social rela-
tionships" (p. 119).

The book brings together a great deal of ethnographic material — some
of it already considered by Brunton — on kava use. There is a slight bias,
however, toward organizing this discussion around the categories that are
most important in Vanuatu, where the authors' own experiences and inves-
tigations have been most immediate. This experience tends to shade their
interpretations of data from other regions, particularly regarding social
hierarchies and gender issues (though I hasten to add that this problem
must characterize any study conducted by researchers with significant
firsthand experience of kava — and who else would mount such a major
undertaking?).

This observation does lead me to my one real cavil with an otherwise
exemplary work. The problem is in some sense inherent in any large-scale
comparative effort: data of many different types, recorded for many differ-
ent purposes, have to be fit piecemeal together, and in the course of doing
so a good many misinterpretations are liable to creep in. I am reminded of
Will Rogers, who used to explain that he had no privileged access to infor-
mation about current events: "I only know what I read in the papers."
Robert Murphy, who taught me much of what I learned while I was at
Columbia University, was wont to say that he didn't know why he believed
anything he read in the New York Times. "Whenever they write about any-
thing I know, they get it wrong. What makes me think they get it right the
rest of the time?" My knowledge of Pohnpei, in the Eastern Carolines,
inclines me to a bit of skepticism about the validity of the comparative mate-
rials brought together here. Let me cite a few examples.

1 / Drawing from an accurate report that Pohnpeians dislike noise while
they are at kava, the authors conclude that on Pohnpei "drinkers normally sit
silently" (p. 140). But conversation is absolutely central to Pohnpeian kava
sessions; it is only after hours of talk and song that people gradually drift into
shared silences.

158 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

2/ The authors touch upon Pohnpeians' customary gifts of kava made to
their chiefs, speaking of "tribute" payments to "their Micronesian chiefly
overlords" (p. 144). In Pohnpei's intensely competitive political economy,
however, one of the primary ways to gain and keep a chiefly title is to contin-
ually provide one's neighbors with high-quality kava.

3/ Descriptions of kava ceremonies taken from the late Saul Riesen-
berg's works (pp. 146-149) could be easily misinterpreted as characterizing
all kava use, when they in fact refer only to a few important public feasts;
most Pohnpeian kava is consumed at small, semiprivate, relatively casual
gatherings.

4/ We read here, moreover, that Pohnpeian kava is "feminized" as a con-
sequence of the way in which it is pounded with hammer stones: "Kava
preparation on these islands becomes a symbolic copulation." This notion in
turn plays a part in generating the conclusion that "to the degree that kava
poses as mythologically feminine, women's use of the drug is made to seem
to be abnormal and shameful homosexual intercourse" (pp. 134-135).
Pohnpeian women do not ordinarily pound kava, but it does happen and
draws little if any comment. Breadfruit pounding is a common euphemism
for male masturbation, but I have never encountered any signs that kava
pounding has sexual connotations (which is not to say that there are none; if
they exist, however, they are well disguised). And Pohnpeian women are
firmly included in all the rituals of kava consumption — there is absolutely
nothing shameful or abnormal about their participation in kava, whether at
great feasts or at local get-togethers.

I fear that readers must take all the generalizations in the chapter on
comparative ethnology with a grain of salt, although there are points where
the authors do acknowledge and confront problems inherent in the data. To
cite but one example, following a discussion of reports about kava drinkers
becoming comatose or hallucinating, Lebot interjects that his own personal
experience "suggests to us that these statements about hallucinogenic or
killer kava are either erroneous or dubiously simplistic" (p. 202). There is
indeed something about kava's mystique that lends itself to exaggeration.
This book goes a long way toward demonstrating that the remarkable reali-
ties of contemporary kava are in no need of embroidery.

REFERENCES CITED

Brunton, Ron

1989 The Abandoned Narcotic: Kava and Cultural Instability in Melanesia. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.

Reviews 159

Lindstrom, Lamont, ed.

1987 Drugs in Western Pacific Societies: Relations of Substance. Association for
Social Anthropology in Oceania Monograph, no. 11. Lanham, Md.: University
Press of America.

Prescott, J., and G. McCall, eds.

1988 Kava Use and Abuse in Australia and the South Pacific. Monograph, no. 5.
Sydney: University of New South Wales, National Drug and Alcohol Research
Center.

BOOKS NOTED

RECENT PACIFIC ISLANDS PUBLICATIONS:
SELECTED ACQUISITIONS, JUNE-DECEMBER 1994

This LIST of significant new publications relating to the Pacific Islands was
selected from new acquisitions lists received from Brigham Young Univer-
sity-Hawai'i, University of Hawai'i at Manoa, Bernice P. Bishop Museum,
University of Auckland, East-West Center, University of the South Pacific,
National Library of Australia, and the Australian International Development
Assistance Bureaus Centre for Pacific Development Training. Other libra-
ries are invited to send contributions to the Books Noted Editor for future
issues. Listings reflect the extent of information provided by each institution.

Alaimoana-Nuusa, Repeka. Lost in Samoa: The Problems of Adjustment of Samoan
Returnee Students. M.Ed, thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1993.

Aldrich, Robert. France and the South Pacific since 1940. Honolulu: U. Hawai'i Press,
1993.

Aotearoa and the Sentimental Strine: Making Films in Australia and New Zealand in the
Silent Period. Wellington: Moa Films, 1993.

Arbury, Jacquelyn. Discover New Zealand: A Textbook in English for Speakers of Other
Languages. Auckland: ESA Publications, 1992.

Arnold, Rollo. New Zealand's Burning: The Settlers World in the Mid 1880's. Wellington:
Victoria U. Press, 1994.

Art and Artifacts of Melanesia. Cambridge, Mass.: Hurst Gallery, 1992.

Asquith, M., et al. Transpiring Sediments via Rivers to the Ocean, and the Role of Sedi-
ments as Pollutants in the South Pacific. Apia: South Pacific Regional Environment
Programme, 1994.

Auckland Institute and Museum. Tai Tokerau, Kaipara, Tamaki Makaura, Hauraki,
Waikato, Maniapoto: A Selection of Maori Treasures from Auckland Museum. Auck-
land: Auckland Museum, 1993.

Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

161

162 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Bain, Kenneth. The New Friendly Islanders: The Tonga of King Taufaahau Tupou IV

London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1993.
Ball, Stuart M. The Hikers Guide to O'ahu. Honolulu: U. Hawai'i Press, 1993.
Bartel, Susan, ed. Working Titles: Books That Shaped New Zealand. Wellington: National

Library of New Zealand, 1993.
Beattie, Hemes. Our Southernmost Maoris. Facsimile ed. Christchurch: Cadsonbury

Publications, 1994.
Bedford, Stuart Hugo. Tenacity of the Traditional: A History and Archeology of Early

European Maori Contact, Puriri, Hauraki Plains. Thesis, U. Auckland, 1994.
Bell, Claudia. Rural Way of Life in New Zealand: Myths to Live By. Thesis, U. Auckland,

1993.
Bevan, Stuart. Vanuatu. Carlton, N.S.W.: Gadabout Guides, 1992.
Blythe, Martin J. Naming of the Other: Images of the Maori in New Zealand Film and

Television. Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1994.
Boon, Kevin. Apirana Ngata. Petone, N.Z.: Nelson Price Milburn, 1993.
Booth, Anne. Development Changes in a Poor Pacific Economy: The Case of Papua New

Guinea. London: Dept. of Economics, U. London, 1994.
Bourke, Myra Jean, et al., eds. Our Time But Not Our Place: Voices of Expatriate Women

in Papua New Guinea. Carlton, Vic: Melbourne U. Press, 1993.
Brake, Brian. Te Maori: Taonga Maori = Treasures of the Maori. Auckland: Reed, 1994.
Brunal-Perry, Omaira. A Question of Sovereignty: What Legitimate Right Did Spain Have

to Its Territorial Expansion? Mangilao: Micronesian Research Center, U. Guam,

1993.
Building Hotels in Papua New Guinea: A Cultural Approach. Suva: Tourism Council of

the South Pacific, 1991.
Bundick, Rich, and Duke Kalani Wise. Hawaiian Street Names: The Complete Guide to

Oahu Street Names. 2d ed. Honolulu: Aloha Press, 1993.
Carrel, Toni L., ed. Submerged Cultural Resources Assessment of Micronesia. Santa Fe:

Southwest Cultural Resources Center, National Park Service, 1991.
Centenaire de la Presence Vietnamienne en Nouvelle-Caledonie, 1891-1991. Noumea:

Centre Territorial de Recherche et de Documentation Pedagogiques, 1991.
Chaplin, Graham. Silvicultural Manual for the Solomon Islands. London: Overseas

Development Administration, 1993.
Christensen, Charles. Kmiai's Native Land Shells. Honolulu: C. Christensen, 1992.
Church, Ian. Port Chalmers and Its People. Dunedin: Otago Heritage Books, 1994.
Claasen, D. Van R. The Utilisation of Remote Sensing in the South Pacific. Canberra: Aus-
tralian Centre for International Agricultural Research, 1992.
Clarke, W C., and R. R. Thaman. Agroforestry in the Pacific Islands: Systems for Sustain-

ability. Tokyo: United Nations U. Press, 1993.
Coale, Shirley Ann. Development of a Support Network for Parents of Children with Dis-
abilities in the Western Pacific. Ph.D. thesis, U. Oregon, 1992.
Cole, Shari. Amazing Days in the Cook Islands. Hastings, N.Z.: Pictorial Publications,

1993.
Connell, John, and John P. Lea Pacific 2010: Planning the Future: Melanesian Cities in

2010. Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies, Australian National U.,

1993.
Connell, John, and Matakite Maata. Environmental Planning, Climate Change, and

Potential Sea Level Rise: Report on a Mission to the Republic of the Marshall Islands.

Apia: South Pacific Regional Environment Programme, 1992.

Books Noted 163

Conte, Eric. Tereraa: Voyaging and the Colonization of the Pacific Islands. Papeete:

Polymages-Scoop, 1992.
Cordy, Ross H. The Lelu Stone Ruins (Kosrae, Micronesia): 1978-1981 Historical and

Archaeological Research. Honolulu: Social Science Research Inst., U. of Hawai'i

1993.
Cracked Pot or Copper Bottomed Investment? The Development of the Ok Tedi Project,

1982-1991, A Personal View. Townsville, Qld.: James Cook U., 1993.
Crane, Wendy, and Taniela Vao. The Environment of Tonga: A Geography Resource.

Lower Hutt, N.Z.: Wendy Crane Books, 1992.
Crawford, Peter. Nomads of the Wind: A Natural History of Polynesia. London: BBC

Books, 1993.
Crocombe, Ron, and Malama Meleisea, eds. Land Issues in the Pacific. Christchurch:

Macmillan Brown ( Centre for Pacific Studies, 1994.
Danielsson, Bengt, and Marie-Therese Danielsson. Moruroa, notre bombe coloniale:

Histoire de la colonisation nucleaire de la Polynesie francaise. Paris: L'Harmattan,

1993.
Dauphine, Joel. Lifou 1864: La prise de possession. Noumea: Centre Territorial de

Recherche et de Documentation Pedagogiques, 1990.
. Mare de 1841 a 1870: Les luttes politico-religieuses. Noumea: Centre Territorial

de Recherche et de Documentation Pedagogiques, 1989.
Davenport, William H. Pi'o: An Enquiry into the Marriage of Brothers and Sisters and

Other Close Relatives in Old Hawaii. Lanham, Md.: University Press of America,

1994.
Deeks, John, and Peter Enderwick, eds. Business and New Zealand Society. Auckland:

Longman Paul, 1994.
De Jongh, Alice. The Constitution of the Marshall Islands: Its Drafting and Current

Operation. Kensington, N.S.W: Centre for South Pacific Studies, U. New South

Wales, 1993.
Directory of Sources for Native Hawaiian Plants. 2d ed. Lawa'i, Hawai'i: Hawai'i Plant

Conservation Center of the National Tropical Botanical Garden, 1993.
Douglas, Norman, and Ngaire Douglas. Fiji Handbook: Business and Travel Guide. Suva:

Fiji Times, Ltd., 1993.
Downing, Jane, et al., eds. Bwebwenatoon Etto: A Collection of Marshallese Legends and

Traditions. Majuro: Marshall Islands Historic Preservation Office, 1992.
Dunmore, John, ed. The French and the Maori. Waikane, N.Z.: Heritage Press, 1992.
Durie, Mason. Whaiora: Maori Health Development. Auckland: Oxford U. Press, 1994.
Eade, Elizabeth. Preliminary Bibliography on Traditional Science and Technology in the

Pacific Islands. Suva: U. South Pacific Library, 1992.
Economic Impact of Tourism in Fiji, 1990. Suva: Tourism Council of the South Pacific,

1992.
Ell, Gordon Charles. New Zealand Traditions and Folklore. Auckland: Bush Press, 1994.
Emberson-Bain, Atu. Labour and Gold in Fiji. Cambridge: Cambridge U. Press, 1994.
Ernst, Manfred. Winds of Change: Rapidly Growing Religious Groups in the Pacific

Islands. Suva: Pacific Conference of Churches, 1994.
Eteuati, Kilifoti. The Laws of the Sea and the South Pacific. Nairobi: U.N. Environmental

Program, 1991.
Feldman, Jerome. The Art of Micronesia: The University of Hawaii Art Gallery. Hono-
lulu: U. Hawai'i Art Gallery, 1986.
Fiji: A Comparative Study. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1991.

164 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Finch, John David. Coffee, Development, and Inequality in the Papua New Guinea High-
lands. Ph.D. thesis, City U. of New York, 1990.
Fischer, Steven Roger. Easter Island Studies. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1993.
Fish Names of Western Polynesia: Niue, Samoa, Tokelau, Tonga, Tuvalu, Wallis and

Futuna, Outliers. 2 vols. Honolulu: East-West Center, 1993.
Fitzhardinge, Rachel C. The Ecology of Juvenile Hawaiian Corals. Ph.D. thesis,

U. Hawai'i, 1993.
Fleming, Euan, and George Antony. The Coffee Economy in Papua New Guinea: Analysis

and Prospects: Main Report. Port Moresby: Inst, of National Affairs, 1993.
Fleming, Euan, and J. Brian Hardaker. Pacific 2010: Strategies for Melanesian Agricul-
ture for 2010: Tough Choices. Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies,

Australian National U., 1994.
Foster, Nelson. Bishop Museum and the Changing World of Hawaii. Honolulu: Bishop

Museum Press, 1993.
Fox, James J. Inside Austronesian Houses: Perspectives on Domestic Designs for Living.

Canberra: Dept. of Anthropology, Australian National U., 1993.
Freeman, Derek. Paradigms in Collision: The Far Reaching Controversy over the

Samoan Researches of Margaret Mead and Its Significance for the Human Sciences.

Canberra: Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National U., 1992.
Fromaget, Michel, and Richer de Forges. Bibliographic Catalogue with Index of Work on

the Marine Environment of New Caledonia. Noumea: ORSTOM, 1992.
Fruitful Fields: American Missionary Churches in Hawaii. Honolulu: State Historical

Preservation Division, Dept. of Land and Natural Resources, 1993.
Fuata'i, Lafita'i Iupati. Philosophy and Guidelines: Teacher Education in Agriculture in

the South Pacific. Ph.D. thesis, Cornell U., 1990.
Gallagher, Mark Edward. No More a Christian Nation: The Protestant Church in Territo-
rial Hawaii, 1898-1919. Ph.D. thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1983.
Gannicott, Kenneth George. Education in Papua New Guinea: A Case Study in Wasted

Resources. Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies, Australian National

U., 1987.
Gannicott, Kenneth George, and Beatrice Avalos. Pacific 2010: Women's Education and

Economic Development in Melanesia. Canberra: National Centre for Development

Studies, 1994.
Gibson, Robert E. Palauan Causatives and Passives: An Incorporation Analysis. Ph.D.

thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1993.
Gillett, Robert. Tonga Fisheries Bibliography. Suva: Pacific Islands Marine Resources

Information Service, 1994.
Gillison, Gillian. Between Culture and Fantasy: A New Guinea Highlands Mythology.

Chicago: U. Chicago Press, 1993.
Godard, Philippe. Wallis and Futuna. Noumea: Editions d'Art Caledoniennes, 1991.
Graham, Michael B. Mantle of Heroism: Tarawa and the Struggle for the Gilberts,

November 1943. Novato, Calif.: Presidio, 1993.
Greene, Linda W. A Cultural History of Three Traditional Hawaiian Sites on the West

Coast of Hawaii Island: Pu'uokohala Heiau National Historic Site, Kawaihae,

Hawaii; Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park, Kaloko-Honokokau, Hawaii;

Puuohonua o Honaunau National Historical Park, Honaunau, Hawaii. Denver: U.S.

National Park Service, 1993.
Greub, Suzanne, ed. Art of Northwest New Guinea: From Geelvink Bay, Humboldt Bay,

and Lake Sentani. New York: Rizzoli, 1992.

Books Noted 165

Grossman, Gary M., et al. Achieving Educational Excellence: The Challenge of the 90s in
the Federated States of Micronesia: Final Report: Managing Change for Educational
Improvement. Columbus, Ohio: Center on Education and Training for Employ-
ment, Ohio State U., 1990.

Guddemi, Phillip Vickroy. We Came from This: Knowledge, Memory, Painting, and "Play"
in the Initiation Rituals of the Sawiyan O of Papua New Guinea. Ph.D. thesis
U. Michigan, 1992.

Guidelines for the Integration of Tourism Development and Environmental Protection in
the South Pacific. Suva: Tourism Council of the South Pacific, 1990.

Gupata, Desh, and Tony Deklin. Privatisation in Papua New Guinea. Boroko, P.N.G.:
National Research Inst., 1992.

Habtemariam, Tesfaghiorghis. The Implication of Population Growth for Tuvalu. Can-
berra: National Centre for Development Studies, Australian National U., 1994.

Hahn, Elizabeth Parks. The Communication of Tongan Tradition: Mass Media and
Culture in the kingdom of Tonga. Ph.D. thesis, U. North Carolina, Chapel Hill,
1992.

Hamer, Paul A. Nature and Natives: Transforming and Saving the Indigenous in New
Zealand. M.A. thesis, Victoria U., 1992.

Harawira, K. T. Teach Ymirself Maori. 3d ed. Auckland: Reed, 1994.

Harlow, Ray. Otago's First Book: The Distinctive Dialect of Southern Maori. Dunedin:
Otago Heritage Books, 1994.

Harris, Paul, and Stephen Levine, eds. The New Zealand Politics Source Book. 2d ed.
Palmerston North, N.Z.: Dunmore Press, 1994.

Hawaiian Sovereignty Advisory Commission Final Report. Honolulu: The Commission,
1994.

Hay, John E., and Kerry McGregor. Climate Change and Sea Level Rise Issues in the Fed-
erated States of Micronesia. Apia: South Pacific Regional Environment Programme,
1994.

Haywood, Douglas J. Christianity and the Traditional Beliefs of the Mulia Dani: An Eth-
nography of Religious Belief among the Western Dani of Irian Jaya, Indonesia.
Ph.D. thesis, U. California, Santa Barbara, 1992.

Henderson, Janice Wald. The New Cuisine of Hawaii: Recipes from the Twelve Cele-
brated Chefs of Hawaii Regional Cuisine. New York: Villard Books, 1994.

Henningham, Stephen, et al., eds. Resources, Development, and Politics in the Pacific
Islands. Bathurst, N.S.W.: Crawford House Press, 1992.

Henry, Lehman L. (Bud). He eta Fishpond = Loko i a o Heeia. Kane'ohe, Hawai'i:
Friends of Heeia State Park, 1993.

Herdt, Gilbert H., ed. Ritualized Homosexuality in Melanesia. Berkeley: U. California
Press, 1993.

Hereniko, Vilsoni, and Teresia Teaiwa. Last Virgin in Paradise: A Serious Comedy. Suva:
Mana Publications, 1993.

Hetler, Carol B., and Siew-Ean Khoo. Women's Participation in the South Pacific Econ-
omy. Canberra: National Centre for Development Studies, Australian National U.,
1987.

Histoire: Nouvelle-Caledonie IF ranee: Le manuel scolaire d'histoire. Noumea: Edite de la
Graphoprint, 1992.

Hofer, Hans. Hawaii. 10th ed. Hong Kong: Apa Productions, 1994.

Hoft, Robert. Plants of New Guinea and the Solomon Islands: Dictionary of the Genera
and Families of Flowering Plants and Ferns. Wau, P.N.G.: Wau Ecology Inst., 1992.

166 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Holmes, T. Michael. The Specter of Communism in Hawaii. Honolulu: U. Hawai'i Press,

1994.
Howard, Alan. Hef Ran Ta (The Morning Star): A Biography of Wilson Inia, Rotuma's

First Senator Suva: Inst, of Pacific Studies, U. South Pacific, 1994.
Hucker, Graham. Glimpses of New Z£aland in the Nineteenth Century. Auckland: Heine-

mann Educational, 1992.
Human Rights in New Zealand: Report to the United Nations Committee against Torture.

Wellington: N.Z. Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, 1994.
Hunter, R. Papua New Guinea: A Comparative Study. Canberra: Australian Government

Publishing Service, 1991.
Hutchinson, Tagaloa le Papaliitele. O Aganu'u a Samoa: A Study of Chiefly Ceremonials

in Traditional Samoa. Thesis, U. Auckland, 1992.
Jacobs, Warren. Otago. Dunedin: Hyndman Publications, 1991.

Jaffe, Mark. And No Birds Sing: The Story of an Ecological Disaster in a Tropical Para-
dise. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994.
Jayaraman, T K. Domestic and National Savings of Western Samoa, 1982-1992: An

Empirical Investigation. Kensington, N.S.W.: Centre for South Pacific Studies,

U. New South Wales, 1993.
Jones, Anna Laura. Contemporary Folk Art in French Polynesia. Ph.D. thesis, Stanford

U., 1991.
Kaeppler, Adrienne L. L'Art oceanien. Paris: Citadelles & Mazenod, 1993.

. Hula Pahu: Hawaiian Drum Dances. Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1993.

. Poetry in Motion: Studies ofTongan Dance. Nukualofa: Vava'u Press, 1993.

Karolle, Bruce G. Atlas of Micronesia. 2d ed. Honolulu: Bess Press, 1993.

Kaulima, Aiao, and Clive Beaumont. A First Book for Learning Niuean. Auckland: C. H.

and D. J. M. Beaumont, 1994.
Kawakami, Barbara F. Japanese Immigrant Clothing in Hawaii, 1885-1941. Honolulu:

U. Hawai'i Press, 1993.
Kirch, Patrick V, and T. L. Hunt, eds. The To'aga Site: Three Millennia of Polynesian

Occupation in the Manua Islands, American Samoa. Berkeley: U. California

Archaeological Research Facility, 1993.
Kirsch, Stuart. Yonggom of New Guinea: An Ethnography of Sorcery, Magic, and Ritual.

Ph.D. thesis, U. Pennsylvania, 1991.
Klarr, Caroline K. Body Ornamentation of the Hula Dancer from 1779 to 1858. M.A.

thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1992.
Kramer, Augustin. The Samoan Islands. Auckland: Polynesian Press, 1994.
Lacabanne, Sonia. Les premiers romans polynesians: Naissance d'une litterature de

langue anglaise, 1948-1983. Paris: Societe des Oceanistes, 1992.
Ladefoged, Thegn Niels. Evolutionary Process in an Oceanic Chief dom: Intergroup

Aggression and Political Integration in Traditional Rotuman Society. Ph.D. thesis,

U. Hawai'i, 1993.
Lancaster, Diana. Wars of Welcome: What's Going on When Maori Meet? Whitianga,

N.Z.: Hattie Bee Lines, 1993.
Lawson, Tim, ed. South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook, 1992. Noumea: The

Commission, 1993.
Le Cam, Georges-Goulven. Mythe et strategic identitaire chez les Maoris de Nouvelle

Zelande. Paris: Editions L'Harmattan, 1992.
Lewis, David. We the Navigators: The Ancient Art of Landfinding in the Pacific. 2d ed.

Honolulu: U. Hawai'i Press, 1994.

Books Noted 167

Lieber, Michael D. More Than a Living: Fishing and the Social Order on a Polynesian

Atoll. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1994.
Lineham, Peter James. Religious History of New Zealand: A Bibliography. 4th ed. Palm-

erston North, N.Z.: Dept. of History, Massey U., 1993.
Linkels, Ad. Sounds and Change in Tonga: Dance, Music, and Cultural Dynamics in a

Polynesian Kingdom. Nukualofa: Friendly Islands Book Shop, 1992.
Loubersac, Lionel. Orama nui = La Pohjnesie vue de Vespace. Pirae, Tahiti: Scoop-
Polymers, 1992.
Lubbock, Alfred Basil. Bully Hayes, South Sea Pirate. Glasgow: Brown, Son & Ferguson,

1991.
Luckcock, Janet Louisa. Thomas of Tonga, 1797-1881: The Unlikely Pioneer. Peter-
borough, Eng.: Methodist Publishing House, 1990.
Lynch, John. An Annotated Bibliography of Vanuatu Languages. Suva: U. South Pacific

Library, 1994.
McCall, Grant. Rapanui: Tradition and Survival on Easter Island. 2d ed. St. Leonards,

N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin, 1994.
MacDonald, Robert. Maori. Hove, Eng.: Wayland, 1993.
McGavin, Paul A. Economic Security in Melanesia: Key Issues for Managing Contract

Stability and Mineral Resources Development in Papua New Guinea, Solomon

Islands, and Vanuatu. Honolulu: East-West Center, 1993.
McKinnon, Malcolm. Independence and Foreign Policy: New Zealand in the World since

1935. Auckland: Auckland U. Press, 1993.
McLaren, Ian Francis. Laperouse in the Pacific, including Searches by d'Entrecasteaux,

Dillon, Dumont d'Urville: An Annotated Bibliography. Parkville, Vic: U. Melbourne

Library, 1993.
McMahon, Richard. Camping Hawai'i: A Complete Guide. Honolulu: U. Hawai'i Press,

1994.
Makaichy, Ned I. Relations between the United States of America and the Federated

States of Micronesia during the Post-Trusteeship Era. M.A. thesis, United States

International U., 1990.
Manuaud, S. Futuna ethnologie et actualite. Noumea: Societe d'Etudes Historiques de la

Nouvelle-Caledonie, 1983.
Maragos, James E., et al., eds. Coastal Resource Inventory ofArno Atoll, Republic of the

Marshall Islands. Honolulu: Sea Grant Extension Service, U. Hawai'i, 1993.
Marksbury, Richard A., ed. The Business of Marriage: Transformations in Oceanic Matri-
mony. Pittsburgh: U. Pittsburgh Press, 1993.
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tic World View of the Maori. Wellington: N.Z. Ministry for the Environment, 1992.
Marshall Islands. Office of Planning and Statistics. Statistical Abstract. Majuro: The

Office, 1990.
Maschio, Thomas. To Remember the Faces of the Dead: The Plentitude of Memory in

Southwestern New Britain. Madison: U. Wisconsin Press, 1994.
Maude, H. C, and H. E. Maude, eds. An Anthology of Gilbertese Oral Tradition: From

the Grimble Papers and Other Collections. Suva: Inst, of Pacific Studies, U. South

Pacific, 1994.
Meers, David. The Rising of Santa Ana and Other Stories. Melbourne: Oxford U. Press,

1986.
Meleisea, Malama. Change and Adaptations in Western Samoa. Christchurch: Macmillan

Brown Centre for Pacific Studies, U. Canterbury, 1992.

168 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Michal, Louise. Legendes et chants de gestes canaques. Noumea: Hachette Caledonie,
1989. (Reprint of 1885 edition)

Miller, Jacqueline Y. The Butterflies of the Tonga Islands and Niue, Cook Islands. Hono-
lulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1993.

Monin, Paul. Waiheke Island: A History. Palmerston North, N.Z.: Dunmore Press, 1992.

Morrison, Paul Geraghty, and Linda Crowl, eds. Science of Pacific Island Peoples. 4 vols.
Suva: Inst, of Pacific Studies, U. South Pacific, 1994.

Morrison, Robert John, and Ganeshan Rao. Bibliography on Marine Pollution Problems
in the Pacific Islands. Suva: U. South Pacific Library, 1994.

Moses, Paulette. Hawaiian Sovereignty Movement: A Strategic Communicative Action
Approach. M.A. thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1993.

Moulin, Jane Freeman. He ko Ina: Music, Dance, and Poetry in the Marquesas Islands.
Ph.D. thesis, U. California, Santa Barbara, 1991.

Neu, Andre Hubert. Progress Is a Comfortable Disease: A Cross Cultural Study Showing
Television's Effects on an American Samoan Family. M.S. thesis, San Jose State U.,
1990.

New Zealand: A Comparative Study. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Ser-
vice, 1991.

Nga Tangata Taumata Rau, 1870-1900. Wellington: Bridget Willliams Books, 1994.

Nicholas, Anne. The Art of the New Zealand Tattoo. Auckland: Tandem, 1994.

1991 Census of Population and Dwellings: New Zealand Maori Population and Dwellings.
Wellington: Dept. of Statistics, 1992.

1991 Census of Population and Dwellings: Pacific Island Population and Dwellings. Well-
ington: Dept. of Statistics, 1992.

1991 New Zealand Census of Population and Dwellings: New Zealand's Social Structure.
Wellington: Dept. of Statistics, 1992.

1991 New Zealand Census of Population and Dwellings: Summary. Wellington: Dept. of
Statistics, 1992.

Norton, Robert Edward. Race and Politics in Fiji. 2d ed. St. Lucia: U. Queensland Press,
1990.

Olsen, Edward A. The Evolution of U.S. Maritime Power in the Pacific. Canberra:
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Orsman, Harry, and Des Hurley. Dictionary of Kiwi-isms. Auckland: Reed, 1994.

O'Sullivan, Vincent, ed. An Anthology of Twentieth Century New Zealand Poetry. Auck-
land: Oxford U. Press, 1987.

Otto, Ton. The Politics of Tradition in Baluan: Social Change and the Construction of the
Past in a Manus Society. Ph.D. thesis, Australian National U., 1991.

Pacific Island Paradises. North Bondi, N.S.W: PIP Publications, 1993.

Palomo, Jose R. Recollections of Olden Days. Mangilao: Micronesian Area Research
Center, U. Guam, 1992.

Pang, Benton. Identification of Plant Fibers in Hawaiian Kapa: From Ethnology to
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Peacocke, Kathryn. Newspaper Indexes in New Zealand: A Guide. Hamilton: U. Waikato
Library, 1994.

Pearl City: A Look at the Past: An Oral History Project. Wahiawa, Hawai'i: Wonder View
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Pearsall, Sam H. A Geographical-Ecological Model for Landscape Conservation in West-
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Peat, Neville. Dunedin. Dunedin: Hyndman Publications, 1991.

Books Noted 169

Peattie, Mark R. Nan'i/o: The Rise and Fall of the Japanese in Micronesia, 1885-1945.

Honolulu: Center for Pacific Islands Studies, U. Hawaii and U. Hawai'i Press

1992.
Phillip's Atlas of New Zealand and the World. Auckland: Octopus Books, 1993.
Pohnpei. Office of Budget, Planning, and Statistics. Pohnpei State Statistics Yearbook

Kolonia: The Office, 1991.
Poirine, Bernard. Tahiti strategic pour I'apres-nuclearie: De la rente atomique au devel-

oppement. Papeete: B. Poirine, 1992.
. Three Essays from French Polynesia. Sydney: Centre for South Pacific Studies,

1993.
Pons, Xavier Legeant du Pacifique. Paris: Economica, 1988.
Pope, Diana, and Jeremy Pope. Mobil New Zealand Travel Guide: North Island. 8th ed.

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. Mobil New Zealand Travel Guide: South Island, Stewart Island, and the

Chatham Islands. 6th ed. Auckland: Reed, 1993.
Poyer, Lin. The Ngatik Massacre: History and Identity on a Micronesian Atoll. Washing-
ton, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993.
Pryor, Pamela Takiora Ingram. Indigenous Entrepreneur ship and Tourism Development

in the Cook Islands and Fiji. Ph.D. thesis, Massey U., 1990.
Rapaport, Moshe. Defending the Lagoons: Insider/Outsider Struggles over the Tuamo-

tuan Pearl Industry. Ph.D. thesis, U. Hawai'i, 1993.
Rechtman, Robert B. The Evolution of Sociopolitical Complexity in the Fiji Islands.

Ph.D. thesis, U. California, Los Angeles, 1992.
Regnault, Jean-Marc. La hombe francaise dans le Pacifique: LTmplantation, 1957-1964.

Pirae, Tahiti: Scoop Editions, 1993.
Reilly, Michael Patrick Joseph. Reading into the Past: A Historiography ofMangaia in the

Cook Islands. Ph.D. thesis, Australian National U., 1991.
Rensch, Karl Heinz. Fish Names of Western Polynesia: Futuna, Niue, Samoa, Tokelau,

Tonga, Tuvalu, Uvea, Outliers. Canberra: Archipelago Press, 1994.
Rhoads, Samuel E. The Sky Tonight: A Guided Tour of the Stars over Hawaii. Honolulu:

Bishop Museum, 1993.
Rice, Geoffrev W, ed. The Oxford History of New Zealand. Auckland: Oxford U. Press,

1992.
Richards, Rhys. Into the South Seas. Wellington: Paramata Press, 1993.
Richmond, Bruce Mark. Holocene Geomorphology and Reef History of Islands in the

South and Central Pacific. Ph.D. thesis, U. California, Santa Cruz, 1992.
Riley, Murdoch. Maori Healing and Herbal: New Zealand Ethnobotanical Sourcebook.

Paraparamu, N.Z.: Viking Sevenseas, 1994.
Ritterbush, S. Deacon. Sometimes the "Native" Knows Best: A Discourse on Contextual-

ization, Indigenous Knowledge, and the Implications of Culture for Sustainable

Commercial Farm Development in the Kingdom of Tonga. Ph.D. thesis, U. Hawai'i,

1993.
Robillard, Albert. Social Change in the Pacific Islands. London: Kegan Paul, 1992.
Robinson, Roger, ed. Katherine Mansfield: In from the Margin. Baton Rouge: Louisiana

State U. Press, 1994.
Royal Society of New Zealand. Marine Resources, Their Management and Protection: A

Review. Wellington: The Society, 1993.
Ryan, Thomas Felix. Narratives of Encounter: The Anthropology of History on Nine.

Thesis, U. Auckland, 1993.

170 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Sanderson, Marie, ed. Prevailing Trade Winds: Climate and Weather in Hawaii. Hono-
lulu: U. Hawai'i Press, 1993.

Sands, Alistair. The Rainbow Warrior Affair and Realism: A Critique. Canberra: Peace
Research Centre, Australian National U., 1991.

Saquet, Jean-Louis. Architecture tropicale de Tahiti: Te fare. Pirae, Tahiti: Editions
Polymages-Scoop, 1991.

. L Atoll. Pirae, Tahiti: Polymages-Scoop, 1992.

. Pearls of Tahiti = Pedes de Tahiti: Mothered by Nature under Human Care.

Pirae, Tahiti: Polymages-Scoop, 1992.

The Tahiti Handbook: Te Fenua. Papeete: Editions Avant et Apres, 1992.

Saura, Bruno. Politique et religion a Tahiti. Pirae, Tahiti: Polymages-Scoop, 1993.
Second National Development Plan, 1992-1996. Palikir: Pohnpei Office of Planning and

Statistics, 1991.
Seiden, Allan. Flowers of Hawaii. 5th ed. Honolulu: Island Heritage, 1994.
Sem, Graham. Implications of Climate Change and Sea Level Rise for the Republic of

Palau. Apia: South Pacific Regional Environment Programme, 1994.
Sharp, Andrew, ed. Leap Into the Dark: The Changing Role of the State in New Zealand

since 1984. Auckland: Auckland U. Press, 1994.
Sharp, Roslyn, ed. Pacific Women's Directory: A Guide to 500 Women's Organisations in

the South Pacific. Noumea: South Pacific Commission, 1993.
Sharrad, Paul. Readings in Pacific Literature. Wollongong, N.S.W.: U. Wollongong, 1993.
Silk, Don. From Kauri Trees to Sunlit Seas: Shoestring Shipping in the South Pacific.

Auckland: Godwit, 1994.
Simet, Jacob, and Wari Iamo. Cultural Diversity and the United Papua New Guinea.

Boroko, P.N.G.: National Research Inst., 1992.
Sims, Conrad. Auckland. Auckland: Reed, 1994.
Simutoga, Pierre-Chanel. Technologie traditionelle a Wallis: Essai de sauvegarde de la

memoire collective des charpentiers wallisiens (tufuga) du district de Hihifo. Paris:

Musee de l'Homme, 1992.
Sinclair, Keith. A History of New Zealand. Rev. ed. Auckland: Penguin, 1988.
Sir Peter Scott Commemorative Expedition to the Pitcairn Islands, 1991-1992. Cam-
bridge: Dept. of Zoology, U. Cambridge, 1992.
Smidt, Dirk, ed. Asmat Art: Woodcarvings of Southwest New Guinea. New York: George

Braziller, 1993.
Smith, Andrew, and Paul Dalzell. Fisheries Resources and Management Investigations in

Woleai Atoll, Yap State, Federated States of Micronesia. Noumea: South Pacific

Commission, 1993.
A Social Studies Atlas of Solomon Islands: An Insight into the Infra-structure of a Devel-
oping Nation. Honiara: Curriculum Development Centre, 1990.
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The South Pacific Forum: Regional Cooperation at Work. Wellington: N.Z. Ministry of

Foreign Affairs and Trade, 1994.
South Pacific: Regional Tourism Statistics: 1985-1990. Suva: Tourism Council of the

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Spennemann, Dirk Heinrich Rudolph. Ennaanin Etto: A Collection of Essays on the Mar-

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Books Noted 171

Sperlich, Wolfgang B. Namakir: A Description of a Central Vanuatu Language 2 vols

Thesis, U. Auckland, 1993.
Spicer, Marion. Moturoa: An Island in the Bay, 1814-1968. Auckland: Fairholm Trust

1993.
Spoonlev. Paul, et al., eds. New Zealand Society: A Sociological Introduction. Palmerston

North, N.Z.: Dunmore Press, 1994.
Spriggs, Matthew, et al., eds. A Community of Culture: The People and Prehistory of the

Pacific. Canberra: Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National U., 1993.
Stack, James West. South Island Maoris: A Sketch of Their History and Legendary Lore.

Christchurch: Capper Press, 1984.
Stanley, David Fiji Islands Handbook. 3d ed. Chico, Calif.: Moon Publications, 1993.

. South Pacific Handbook. 5th ed. Chico, Calif: Moon Publications, 1993.

The State of Pacific Children, 1993. Suva: United Nations Children's Fund, 1993.
Stephen, Ann, ed. Pirating the Pacific: Images of Travel, Trade, and Tourism. Haymarket,

N.S.W: Powerhouse Publishing, 1993.
Sterling, Elspeth P., and Catherine C. Summers. Sites ofOahu. Rev. ed. Honolulu: Bishop

Museum Press, 1993.
Stewart, Lynn Leslie. Our People Are Like Gardens: Music, Performance, and Aesthetics

among the Lolo. West New Britain Province, Papua New Guinea. Ph.D. thesis,

U. British Colombia, 1989.
Stewart, William Herman. Business Reference and Investment Guide to the Common-
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. Saipan in Flames. Saipan: J.M. Associates, 1993.

Stone, Scott C. S. He Mele o Hawaii = A Song of Hawaii: A Celebration of Life and Work

in the Aloha State. Encino, Calif.: Jostens Publishing Group, 1993.
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Thaman, Konaiholeva Helu. Kakala. Suva: Mana Publications, 1993.
Thomas, Larrv, ed. Stories from Nauru. Nauru: Nauru Centre, U. South Pacific, 1991.
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Toullelan, Pierre-Yves, and Bernard Gille. Le mariage Franco-Tahitien: Historie de Tahiti

du XVIIIe siecle a nos jours. Papeete: Editions Polymages-Scoop, 1992.
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turalists of Papua New Guinea. Ph.D. thesis, U. Michigan, 1991.
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172 Pacific Studies, Vol. 18, No. 1— March 1995

Voogt, Alexander Johan de. Caroline Islands Script. M.A. thesis, U. Hawaii, 1993.
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CONTRIBUTORS

Marc Auge, E.H.E.S.S., 54 Bel. Raspail, 75006 Paris, France
E-mail: preside@ehess.fr

Isabelle Cordonnier, 16 passage St-Pierre Amelot, 75011 Paris, France
Fax: 33-1-42-19-57-22

Jonathan Friedman, Department of Social Anthropology, University of
Lund, P.O. Box 114, S-221 00 Lund, Sweden

Brij V. Lai, Division of Pacific and Asian History, Research School of
Pacific and Asian Studies, The Australian National University, Can-
berra, A.C.T. 0200, Australia. E-mail: brijlal@coombs.anu.edu.au

Maria Lepowsky, Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin,
Madison, Wise. 53706, U.S. E-mail: lepowsky@facstaff.wisc.edu

Rosa Rossitto, Via Filisto R.IV 18, 96100 Siracusa, Italy

Annette B. Weiner, Dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Science and
Dean for Social Sciences, New York University, 6 Washington Square
No., New York, N.Y. 10003-6668, U.S. Fax: 212-995-4180

James F. Weiner, Department of Anthropology, University of Adelaide,
Adelaide, S.A. 5005, Australia. E-mail: jweiner@arts.adelaide.edu.au

173

Now in Paperback

Healing

Practices in the

South Pacific

edited by

Claire D. E Parsons

Healing Practices

in the

Now available in paperback for the first time, this collection
of recent essays explores healing practices in the South Pacific
region. Detailed description and analysis begin mapping the
largely uncharted terrain of sickness experience in the every-
day lives of many indigenous Polynesian peoples. Traditional
healing practices, the authors show, are not merely supersti-
tion or beliefs of the past soon to die out. To the contrary,
many of these ethnomedical practices are frequently viewed by
Pacific Islanders as a complementary approach to Western
methods of healing.

"The editor has done an excellent job in selection of her con-
tributors who have all distinguished themselves by the wealth of
knowledge they have brought together, despite the different the-
oretical and methodological persuasions in sociology and
anthropology that they have pursued." — Journal of
Intercultural Studies

Claire D. F. Parsons is Director of Research at the Centre for
Research in Public Health and Nursing, La Trobe University,
Melbourne. Contributors: Cluny Macpherson, Anne
Chambers, Keith Chambers, Tomas Ludvigson, Judith
Macdonald, Claire D. F. Parsons, Bruce Biggs, Josephine
Baddeley, Julia A. Hecht, Antony Hooper, Patricia J. Kinloch.

1st paperback edition, 1995. 227 pp. $18.95. Published by The Institute for
Polynesian Studies, Brigham Young University-Hawaii. Distributed by
University of Hawaii Press. ISBN 0-939154-56-0

The Journal of Pacific History

VOLUME XXIX 1994

Rapanui's Tu'u ko Iho v. Mangareva's 'Atu Motua': multiple reanalysis

and replacement in Rapanui settlement traditions s.R. Fischer

Law, status and citizenship: conflict and continuity in New Zealand and

Western Samoa (1922-1982) WILLIAM tagupa

Arguing over empire: American interservice and interdepartmental rivalry

over Micronesia, 1943-1947 HAL M. FRIEDMAN

Francophonie in post-colonial Vanuatu william f.s. miles

The riddle in Samoan history tuiatua tupua tamasese

Comment on the publication of 'Not the way it essentially was' k. Neumann
The doctrine of accountability and the locus of power, Tonga i.c.campbell
Micronesian trade and foreign assistance: contrasting the Japanese

and American colonial periods H. schwalbenberg & T. hatcher

Review Article: Mining in the Pacific gill burke

* * *

Martyrs, progress and political ambition: re-examining Rotuma's

'religious wars' alan Howard and eric kjellgren

'Your work is of no use to us': administrative interests in ethnographic

research (West New Guinea, 1950-1962) S.R. jaarsma

New Caledonian Melanesians in Europe, 1931-32 Stephen henningham
Custom versus a new elite: Patau's 16 state constitutions d.r. shuster
A sacred mountain of gold: the creation of a mining resource frontier

in Papua New Guinea david hyndman

European-Polynesian encounters: critique of Pearson thesis i.e. CAMPBELL

Who 'owns' Pacific history? The insider/outsider dichotomy doug munro

* * *

Pacific History Bibliography 1994

The 1993 elections in the Solomon Islands R. premdas & J. steeves

PNG politics: between a rock and a hard place Donald Denoon

The South Pacific Forum and the new development orthodoxy Greg Fry

$A30 (plus $10 p&p outside Australia, NZ and Pacific lslands)/$US35 (inclusive)
from The Journal of Pacific History Inc., c/o Division of Pacific and Asian History,
R.S.P.A.S., Australian National University, CANBERRA, ACT 0200, Australia.

Reprinted: Pacific Islands History: journeys and transformations, ed. Brij
V. Lai. Fourteen scholars describe their backgrounds, methods and
enthusiasms, providing an account of some of the achievements and
aspirations of the discipline as a whole, xiv, 256pp. $A15/US20 + $5 p&p.

A Pacific Studies Special Issue (Vol. 17, No. 4, December 1994)

CHILDREN OF KILIBOB:
CREATION, COSMOS, AND CULTURE
| IN NORTHEAST NEW GUINEA

Alice Pomponio, David R. Counts, & Thomas G. Harding
Guest Editors

The contributors to this special issue present and analyze selected myths of
seven peoples of the Vitiaz and Dampier Straits region of northeastern Papua
New Guinea, inspired by Peter Lawrence's work on New Guinea seaboard
religions. Complete with myth texts and maps.

Introduction
Thomas G. Harding, David R. Counts, & Alice Pomponio

Kulbob and Manub: Past and Future Creator Deities ofKarkar Island

Romola McSwain

The Sio Story of Male
Thomas G. Harding & Stephen A. Clark

Namor's Odyssey: Mythical Metaphors and History in Siassi
Alice Pomponio

Mala among the Kowai
Anton Ploeg

Snakes, Adulterers, and the Loss of Paradise in Kaliai
Dorothy Ayers Counts

The Legacy ofMoro the Snake-man in Bariai
Naomi M. McPherson

The Legend ofTitikolo: An Anem Genesis
William R. Thurston

224 pp. Available as part of a one-year subscription of US$30 (4 issues); single copies US$15;
special classroom rate of US$12 (min. 5 copies) thanks to a generous grant from the Association
for Social Anthropology in Oceania. ISSN 0275-3596. Send order to: The Institute for
Polynesian Studies, Box 1979, Brigham Young University-HawaM, 55-220 Kulanui St., Laie, HI
96762, ph. 808-293-3665, fax 808-293-3645.

IUST PUBLISHED
INSTITUTE FOR POLYNESIAN STUDIES MONOGRAPH SERIES, NO. 7

Pacific

Islander

Americans

An Annotated Bibliography
in the Social Sciences

Paul R. Spickard, Debbie Hippolite Wright, Blossom Fonoimoana,

Dorri Nautu, Karina Kahananui Green, Tupou Hopoate Pauu,

David Hall, and John Westerlund

This is a guide to the scholarly work that has been done about Pacific
slanders living in the United States — Native Hawaiians, Samoans,
Tongans, Chamorros, and others — one of the least understood and least
documented American ethnic groups. Publication data and brief anno-
tations are presented on nearly 400 scholarly social-science sources,
providing a convenient reference to many hard-to-locate works includ-
ing chapters devoted to Pacific Islander Americans within larger works,
articles in scholarly journals, papers and proceedings, and government
documents. Sources cited pertain to migration and demography, culture
and adaptation, religion, the family, economic and social conditions,
education, colonization, politics and government programs affecting
Pacific Islander Americans, ethnological studies of Islander communities
and lifestyles, and other topics.

102 PP., $14.00 PAPER. ISBN 0-939154-54-4
DISTRIBUTED BY UNIVERSITY OF HAWAPI PRESS

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